


Simon Says

by ABrighterDarkness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anger, Angst, Death Eaters, F/M, Manipulation, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-05 20:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17925893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABrighterDarkness/pseuds/ABrighterDarkness
Summary: The Avery's were never really known for much. Which, truthfully, suited them quite well. To be known for nothing means to be expected of nothing and to have nothing expected that everything you do exceeds expectations. But even that falls a part eventually.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing! I just play with what's already there.

 

In all of his eleven years the one thing Simon Avery was known for getting into trouble over was his insatiable curiosity. Which he thought was a good thing, thanks so much, considering Avery’s weren’t generally known for much.  The House of Avery held its place in the Sacred Twenty-eight. They were every bit as old and established as the House of Malfoy with both Houses establishing their foothold in Britain just after the Battle of Hastings. The Avery’s, however, never quite reached the level of notoriety that their peers obtained. Which, truthfully, suited them quite well. To be known for nothing means to be expected of nothing and to have nothing expected that everything you do exceeds expectations.

 

But Simon was quite aware of his reputation among the other Sacred Twenty-eight families for his unstinting curiosity. He’d lost count of the scolding and punishments he had received after asking questions that ought not be asked at various social functions. His questions were generally answered with some variation of "figure it out, yourself". Which also developed his reputation for being tenacious. Inquisitiveness, tenacity and curiosity made for quite the interesting combination when bundled into the small body of an eleven year old wizard.

 

It was his tenacity that urged his parents and elder twin sisters onto the platform a full hour before the Express was set to depart for Hogwarts on the first of September 1971.

 

Suffice to say at the seventh year girls were not quite as enthused. He’d never understand why girls needed so much time to prepare. Prepare for what?

 

It was with a warm albeit perfunctory farewell between parents and children. As soon as the parents were out of sight Catherine and Charlotte disappeared as well, though he assumed they had gone ahead onto the train.

 

Simon rocked back onto his heels, chewing idly on his lower lip and stared, for a moment, at the beautiful, scarlet monstrosity that was the Hogwarts Express. He’d not admit it aloud, not to _anyone_ , but he felt a little intimidated just then, standing there alone on the platform.

 

Intimidated but not deterred.

 

Feeling the usual tug of curiosity, the young wizard squared his shoulders and gave his trunk a firm tug as he boarded the train. Being as they had arrived so very early it was quite easy to find an unoccupied compartment to settle his belongings.  Standing in the center of the compartment, he turned in a slow, cursory circle to study the small compartment that he would be inhabiting for the duration of his trip to Hogwarts.

 

Settling into one of the benches Simon noted idly that he was quite short. His feet couldn’t even graze the floor when he sat back into his seat. He wasn’t sure what to make of his observation but he had to admit that he wasn’t exactly pleased.  The young wizard's musings were interrupted, thankfully he thought, by a pair of children that could only be fellow first years, as small as they were. The first was a proud yet gangly boy with an unusually large nose and poorly shorn, inky black hair. Simon thought he looked quite solemn even with a smile directed at his smaller companion. His clothes were obviously well worn without the benefit of also being well cared for. The boy himself looked equally as worn Simon thought.

 

Simon shifted his curious attention to the second half of the pair and cocked his head in interest. Where the boy was solemn and worn the exceedingly tiny witch seemed to exude pep and warmth.  The little witch had the obvious look of care that her friend lacked.

 

Between her bold red and green and his sallow darkness, Simon felt rather unremarkable, if he were honest.  He was neatly groomed and polished as was expected.  But it was the mark of an Avery to be known for nothing, looks to be included.  Plain, nearly monochromatic sandy brown hair and grey-blue eyes that were quite bland compared to the silvery greys of the Blacks or the icy grey of the Malfoys.  Or even this witch's emerald green or the wizard's brown-but-nearly-black.  Yes, for all the pomp and circumstance of being Sacred Twenty-eight, Simon certainly felt unremarkable.

 

It was then that the pair realized that they weren’t alone in the compartment and met Simon’s attentions. She smiled widely in greeting while the boy, he noticed, instinctively shifted protectively towards the girl.

 

Now Simon would never claim himself to be an expert at social cues or on the intricacies of social interactions but it was obvious to even his untrained attention that the other young wizard came from a home with very little of anything pleasant. It was also so very obvious that he guarded his friendship with the little witch jealously.

 

Simon was curious. He shifted his gaze from the wizard and back to the witch. What about her was so grand that her friend felt she needed guarding so desperately? And what was so intimidating about a short and scrawny Avery that required guarding against?

 

The girl’s smile was warm and welcoming. As though he had been in her acquaintance for more than a mere matter of minutes.  As though she was so very happy to see him even though they'd yet to even be introduced.  What a strange little creature, she was.  Even still, Simon found that he couldn’t quite resist the urge to return the gesture with a tentative, inquisitive smile of his own.

 

“I’m Lily and this is my friend, Severus.”

 

"I'm Simon.  Simon Avery," he returned, formally.

 

And so, introductions were had among the three and conversation flowed. It wasn’t until the compartment jerked suddenly as the train began to depart the station that the newly formed acquaintance strained.

 

“I’m so very happy to be going to Hogwarts,” Lily beamed with excitement. “It was a little bit of a shock for my parents when Professor McGonagall showed up at our doorstep over the summer. I already knew though. Sev figured it out months ago.”

 

Simon was silent for a moment, studying the petite little witch. She didn’t seem to notice but her friend was glaring in response to his silence. He must be at least half if he’s had some training on the Families. The House of Avery, though Pure, valued the Magic of a witch or wizard over their blood. They valued tradition and the Rights of Magic. Magic doesn’t make mistakes. New Magicals had magic but they lacked the traditional sense. The respect. But could it be taught? Could she be taught?

 

"Magic is quite wonderful.  I can't imagine what it would be like to have it as such a revelation," Simon said, thoughtfully.  "Exciting and daunting, I'd imagine."

 

Once again, his musings were interrupted. He groaned inwardly as the round, snide face of Darian Mulciber popped unwelcome into the compartment.

 

“Simon, mate, what are you doing in here?” The boy asked snootily, glancing down his nose at the compartment’s other occupants. “It’s _filthy_. Surely you’d rather come sit with the crowd.”

 

Simon briefly took in Lily’s puzzled expression and Severus’ furious one before glaring at the boy. The Avery’s may have a slightly different stance on dogma than many of their peers but the Wizarding world is small. To socialize young children most pure families established standing play dates from birth until Hogwarts. Unfortunately for Simon, Darian was often his play date. The two rarely got on when out of parental oversight.  Simon found Darian to be vulgar and uncouth while Darian regular complained about Simon's tenacity and penchant for getting lost in his quests for answers.  What Simon very much abhorred, however, was the active opinion among Pureblood ideology that Magic made a mistake with New Magicals.

 

“I’m quite comfortable here, thanks. You’re welcome to sit with. I was just going to discuss Houses with Lily and Severus. I’m sure you have input,” Simon stated with forced idleness.

 

“Slytherin,” Darian said simply. “That’s the only one worth knowing.”

 

“Yes, I can fully understand how knowledge, courage or hard work might discourage you from any of the others, Darian,” Simon rolled his eyes, though he bit back a smile when he heard the muffled giggle escape the tiny witch sitting on the bench across from him.

 

“What House would you want, Simon?” Lily asked, a familiar hint of curiosity lacing her question.

 

“I’ll inevitably go to Slytherin,” Simon shrugged with acceptance. “With Old Families it’s as much about family as it is personal traits, you see.  Though Avery’s do have quite a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, historically,” he added, trailing off thoughtfully, cocking his head to the side. Truth be told he'd likely be much happier in either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. To only himself, he sincerely hoped for it but certainly wasn't naïve enough to count on it. “But Slytherin is most likely.”

 

“I think I would like to be placed in Slytherin House,” Severus admitted with a quiet thoughtfulness. As though the House of the Cunning Serpents was his life's aspirations.

 

Darian narrowed his eyes at the dark haired wizard, “What’s your family name?”

 

“Snape,” Severus clipped.

 

“ _Mudblood_?” Darian said with a disgusted sneer. "Sorry, Muddy, but your kind doesn't do well in the House of Salazar Slytherin."

 

Simon watched Severus’s eyes narrow in anger and, admittedly, he felt his own irritation blossoming inside his chest. Through gritted teeth the boy spat, “Half. My mother is a Prince.”

 

“A Pure witch dirtied herself and _you’re_ the result? How...charming. I'm sure your ancestors are most pleased,” the boy leered cruelly.

 

“I think it’s time you return to your compartment, Darian,” Simon warned evenly. He swore he called upon every ounce of his mother’s training to keep face and voice level. Even still, he was quite sure his eyes had not listened and narrowed at his childhood playmate.

 

Darian glanced to his friend and to the two occupants. With a disgusted shudder the boy shrugged and left.

 

Simon met Severus’s angry stare, avoiding Lily’s confused curiosity for the moment. “Your mother warned you?”

 

Severus gave a brief nod in affirmation.

 

“What was he talking about? Severus? Simon?” Lily asked, impatiently. The boys exchanged resigned expressions before launching into the sad reality of Wizarding politics.

 

"The Avery's fall somewhere between the extremes of the Blacks and the Weasleys.  The Weasley's have always been known Muggle Supporters.  Not so much in supporting inclusiveness but in the protection of the Muggle's ignorance.  They don’t know about us, they needn't know about us.  The Blacks are the very strict opposite. They view themselves and wizarding kind as superior. And superior to those who come from Muggles, as well."

 

Lily looked distinctly wounded by the discussion so far but pulled herself together long enough to ask her new friend a simple question, "And where does Simon Avery stand?"

 

"I don't believe that Magic makes mistakes.  If you're hear on this train then you're Magical and you belong here," Simon said, solemnly. "Our blood only guarantees tradition and passage of knowledge. Our blood does not guarantee a future. It's New Blood that guarantees that."

 

The uncomfortable discussion lasted until the train pulled into the Hogsmeade station.

 

The excitement of the welcoming feast warmed all.  In the end, Lily Evans was a Gryffindor while Severus, Simon, and Darian landed firmly into Slytherin.

 

As a Sacred Twenty-eight family, Simon made a point to put Severus firmly under his wing within the House that Pureblood dogma ran rampant. Friendship was rare among the cunning serpents but Simon would like to have thought he had the start of a solid one. Darian made quite a scene at a half-blood being placed into Slytherin. Simon felt somewhat certain that he was simply upset with the social dynamics.

 

Still though, he noticed that the dark haired boy guarded his friendship with the newly minted Gryffindor jealously. And he could start to understand why. There was a special warmth that grew inside of Simon when the witch was happy.

 

It was disconcerting, the hold she had over the two young wizards without even having to try.

 

Severus did his best to keep his Slytherin and Gryffindor friends separated.

 

It was some time in the middle of their third year that Simon started meeting Lily in secret, without Severus, to follow through with his initial assessment of teaching the witch the Foundations of Magic.

 

“ _History_ of Magic is different than the _Foundation_ of Magic,” He explained. “Merlin was a powerful and influential wizard but he didn’t _found_ Magic. Magic found and created Merlin. It’s not a tool. A piece of equipment to pick up and put down as you see fit. It’s the very essence of everything. The land, water, people, animals. Everything. It's the air you breathe, the food you eat, the ground you walk on. It's your heartbeat and it's in every cell of your body. Magic is the very basis of everything.”

 

“Even Muggles?” She asked, curiously.

 

“ _You_ came from Muggles, did you not?” He asked, rhetorically. “And you are magical. So yes, even Muggles. Magic is the essence of everything."

 

Their sessions were cut short as often as not. Either due to attempting to avoid Severus’ attention to their meetings or James Potter’s growing obsession with the witch or because of Darian’s hateful rhetoric. The pair had gotten into several heated debates over the validity of the Pureblood ideology. Simon didn't agree with superiority.  He did agree that Muggles were quite a danger to Wizardkind. He also very firmly believed that Muggleborns were brought in very ignorant. Ignorance was something that Lily Evans took great affront to.

 

“You wouldn’t move to another country without learn the language and culture. This is no different,” he insisted.

 

By the beginning of their fifth year, Simon began to live for those debates. She was so very passionate when she felt that she was firmly in the right.

 

Passionate and so very lovely.

 

Simon had far too many dreams about those sparkling green eyes.

 

Books slammed down on the desk to his right in the old unused classroom they’d commandeered for their studies. Simon looked up warily at the sudden sound.  He carefully leaned back into his chair and folded his hands onto the desktop in front of him, granting the—obviously furious—witch his full attention.

 

“What are they teaching you in those dungeons? Are you all capable of being such foul..such...such perverted buffoons?!” She all but growled, pacing like the angry lioness she was.

 

“I believe anyone is capable, Love.” Simon countered, hoping to draw out details of what had the little witch so gloriously worked up, though he had an idea.

 

“Your friend! _Mulciber_ ,” She spat the name as though it left a foul taste on her tongue. “It’s bad enough that it’s ‘ _Mudblood_ ’ this and _‘Filthy’_ that every time I come across him but what he tried on Mary today? Simon, he said that he was going to see the ‘pure half’ of her! You know as well as I do that he didn’t mean anything remotely respectable. He doesn’t say things like that to Severus and _he's_ a halfblood! She was humiliated and quite frankly traumatized by that brute! And he’s _your friend_! And Severus! He was right there, Simon! He stood there and let that foul creature hurt her without saying a word!”

 

Simon never much cared for Mary Macdonald any more than he really cared for Darian Mulciber, truth be told. Though his dislike for Macdonald had nothing to do with her parentage and everything to do with her being an obnoxious harpy.  However, he’d heard Darian bragging about that curse. He had no idea where Darian had learned the curse but its intention was to be the closest a wizard could come to violating a witch without actually touching her.  Disgusting.

 

He ran a hand over his face and through his hair before standing from the desk and carefully approaching the witch. He gently held onto her arms and squeezed comfortingly. “Darian is being handled. And he will not touch you, Lily. Neither physically nor magically.”

 

“There’s more to the equation than just me, Simon! Mulciber is known for being unable to keep his hands to himself. I’m just lucky enough to be filthy and beneath his notice.

 

“Lily, my love, please don’t speak of yourself in such a way. I’m doing what I can,” He sighed, dropping his hands to hers and lacing their fingers. “I know exactly what kind of wizard Darian is. But...there’s things in motion. Things happening outside of Hogwarts. There’s something big happening and I don’t know that I can escape it. I can’t focus on reigning Darian when I’m trying to protect myself and my family as well. Unfortunately, Severus finds himself in the same predicament.”

“I’ve been following the news,” she admitted quietly, anger draining from her tone, settling instead into resignation. “Please don’t follow that man, Simon. He’s not respecting Magic any more than I was at the start of first year. He’s desecrating it.”

 

Desecration of Magic.  The very though made him shudder. It was, quite literally, the worst offense to Magic. And he was inevitably doomed to enrich the desecration. It made him ill to contemplate. “My father was school chums with him, back in the day. Sometimes want has very little to do with the decision. And not just for me. Like it or not, Lily, I will likely be following that man in the near future," He admitted.  Carefully meeting her beautiful green eyes, he added, "No matter…No matter where my heart belongs.” She froze for a moment, her expression somehow hardening and softening simultaneously.

 

The argument that followed over his future allegiance was inevitably explosive.

 

It was also utterly remarkable, he thought, as their lips met and hands ghosted over flesh.

 

Some months later Simon watched from the sidelines as Severus slipped up under pain of humiliation and utterly destroyed his friendship with the pretty witch.  Simon couldn’t say that he was surprised with the turn of events. He, unfortunately, felt the split between the pair was inevitable. He’d just hoped it hadn’t happened so soon.

 

Or left his witch so defeated.

 

Simon found her in the unused classroom that evening and did what he could to console. He truly hated seeing those lovely green eyes so dim and bloodshot. Wrapping the witch in his arms, Simon swore to himself that he would do his absolute damnedest to never be the cause of this reaction from her. As they wound themselves around one another he voiced his promises and repeated his vow of love as many times as he could in the time that they were granted.

 

It was quite late, or early depending on the perspective, when the wizard returned to the Slytherin common room just long enough to drag a thoroughly depressive Severus Snape into a yet another classroom. He refused to console the other wizard. It just wasn't possible.

 

“What were you thinking?” He asked one of his few true friends.  His eyes were narrowed, shoulders squared.  His anger forced the eloquence and diction into his words and tone that he generally let lapse around the other wizard.  Of all the words that could have been used that day, Severus had to use _Mudblood_.  That foul term. He could have used something as mundane as 'stupid witch' and the poor woman wouldn't have been nearly as devastated.  But no.  He had to use _that_ word.

 

“I didn’t mean to! It just slipped. Potter and Black were so very pleased with themselves. Humiliating me in front of everyone! I didn’t mean to.” The dark haired wizard collapsed into himself.

 

"Severus," Simon sighed, letting his head fall into his hands. "She'll not forgive you. She always believed the absolute best in you, you know? You were always supposed to be this knight in battered armor. Better than the rest of us. Better than _this_. She'll not forgive this."

 

"And _you_ would know?" Severus spat angrily. "You've done nothing but avoid her since third year! How do you know what she feels?"

 

Simon dismissed the twinge of guilt at lying to his friend, responding instead with, "Because Lily Evans is and has always been a very strong and loyal witch.  For her loyalty to be repaid with _that_ would be inexcusable. And from her first true friend? Unsalvageable."

 

The boys found themselves in a number of tussles over the following days.  Generally, they followed the dark haired wizard's desperate attempts to apologize once he realized that his friendship with the witch was in dire jeopardy.

 

Simon didn't know whether to be relieved or sympathetic when Lily continually dismissed Severus's apologies.  She deserved so much better than a friend who would allow such nasty gossip to be spoken behind her back with nary a word in objection. She deserved better than to have a friend who stood by and watched as his 'friends' called her that awful name.

 

She deserved better.

 

He wasn't sure if he qualified as better, but he certainly hoped that he was close to.  Even having outgrown the prepubescent phase of idealism, Simon firmly believed that Magic didn't make mistakes.  If his witch was at Hogwarts with him than she was Magical. Between her Magic and _her_ she was as Pure as a witch could be as far as he was concerned. And she was _his_.  At least for the time.

 

Fifth year faded on an idealized note and spring faded to summer and summer faded straight into September first of their sixth year.

 

Over the course of the year, Simon watched his friend slip further and further into Mulciber’s shadow. Perhaps he should have tried harder to pull the wizard from his spiral. But he truly had no idea how.  The wizard seemed quite happy with his lot, despite the gaping, witch shaped chasm in his heart. Perhaps that's why he delved so deeply into the Arts. If ever there was a mistress that could distract from the pain of the heart, the Dark Arts would be she. Simon could sympathize, somewhat.

 

That same year, as he watched his friend succumb to the call of the Dark Arts, Simon found himself falling further and closer into the beautiful redheaded witch that was gracious enough to allow him to claim her as his own.  Simon found that he truly understood why Severus had guarded her so jealously that very first day on the train. She was utterly priceless.

 

He knew and she knew that their time was very likely limited.  They knew there were things brewing outside the safety of the castle's stone walls.  Things that could quite probably put them on opposing sides of what was bound to be a very costly war. That didn’t stop them from feeling every little thing so very thoroughly in the way only a first love can.

 

There was letters home, periodically, each year. It was to be expected to and from the heir of the House. To learn that his father was reestablishing certain acquaintances from his own Hogwarts days was very disturbing to Simon.  And to Lily, when he'd shared the news.  The man promised such grandeur. He couldn't be surprised that certain families, his own included, would fall for the honeyed words. To bring back to Old Ways.  The Old Traditions. Such words meant differently to each family, Simon knew.

 

To the Blacks and Lestranges, it meant superiority.  To the Malfoys, it meant wealth.  To some it meant notoriety. To other Houses it simply meant return to Right and Rituals.  To the Avery's it would have meant returning to Magic. Simon was worldly enough to understand that this man spoke very pretty words.  He didn't much believe that the end result would truly be any of the above.

 

Some men just want to watch the world burn.

 

Simon was sure his father's school chum was one such person. It always hurt his soul a little to read his father's letters and to read how much he was certain the wizard would return them to Magic.  Return their society to the very foundations of their beings.  Total Enlightenment. Simon would assuredly believe it when he saw it.

 

He shared each of the letters he received from home with his witch. Never could it be said that he attempted to sneak around.  There were many discusses between the young couple over the current events of the outside world and their respective places in it.  She knew what would likely be asked of him. He also made sure that she knew that he would avoid it if he could. That he wanted no part of the pretty words with no substance. No part of the man that fooled grown witches and wizards but couldn’t escape being so obvious that school children could see through his propaganda.

 

Besides, what use did Simon have of a man that whispered promises of Blood Supremacy in the ears of many when he had the most delightful muggleborn witch that fitted so perfectly against his side? What use did he have for a wizard that made this exquisite witch feel as though she was less than?  He believed now more than ever that Magic didn't make mistakes. It had brought him this wonderful creature, how could he believe otherwise?

 

The week before the summer holiday, the pair sat stashed in one of their classrooms. They had settled onto a transfigured sofa with Simon sitting against the arm of one side with Lily leaning comfortably against his chest, legs stretched out towards the opposite arm. His arm was draped over the back of the sofa, his fingers playing with a loose strand of hair.  The couple had immersed themselves into their respective reading. Enjoying the comforting presence that the other offered.

 

Simon found himself distracted, his blue eyes lifting from his own book to watch her read in silence, he couldn't help but start twirling the soft strand of red around his finger.

 

Distraction, though, eventually went both ways as their respective books were settled onto the nearby table in favor of conducting studies into the body of their first loves.

 

He thought about that moment, though, the beautiful simplicity of just being comfortable in her presence, many times over the following months. The months where the darkness overtook him.

 

That summer was easily one that Simon wished he could _Obliviate_ from his own mind.

 

June of 1977 saw him ill and angry. It saw his father yelling and Simon taking his stand. That could not be allowed. June was the beginning of the end. He fought it. He fought it so very hard. Images of bright green eyes full of tears and pain, happiness and joy.  She kept him fighting when, perhaps, he ought to have given up.

 

July saw Simon fighting against the darkness that suddenly pervaded through his entire being. He hated it. He loathed the abomination of a man who felt the need to brand his fellow wizard. He felt hatred and contempt. He felt stained and dirty. Foul. Grotesque, even. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to truly feel clean. Not now. He would never forgive his father for forcing this aberration onto him. He'd never forget his first taste of the Imperius Curse. He'd never forget the utter disgust he'd felt at the foul magic that permeated his entire being. He would never forgive _himself_ for his inability to be better, to be stronger.

 

But the Avery's weren't known for their fortitude. They weren't known for much of anything.

 

August saw Simon Avery teetering on the edge of broken. It saw his mother’s tears. And his own, more than a few times. He was bound to a man that was everything that was wrong with the Pureblood dogma. Focusing on blood rather than Magic. Magic didn’t make mistakes. But Magic allowed _him_ to exist so maybe it did. He wasn’t even capable of scolding himself for such traitorous thoughts. But he'd _failed_ her.  How would he be able to justify this to her? How could he protect her when he'd become a part of the biggest threat to her very existence? How would she ever forgive him?

 

September 1st saw him unable to meet her eye on the train. It saw her injured curiosity. Unable to face her with the guilt he felt since that day in Mid-July. It saw the pair sneak away when no one was much bothered to look for their wayward housemates.  It saw them hiding away in the random unused classroom well after curfew to reveal to her what he wasn't enough to be able to prevent.

 

The ghastly Mark put, not only into his skin, but into his Magic.

 

She reached to touch the abomination and he carefully stilled her hand with his free one. There was no way he could allow something so awful to taint something as lovely and pure as _her_. He was damned.  He'd be twice over if he allowed her to sink with him. She cried. Simon hated himself for betraying his promise to himself. He held her without attempting to hide his own tears. His Brokenness.

 

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, pressing his lips to her hair just above her ear as he held her as tightly as he could. "I'm so very sorry I'm not strong enough to be what you deserve. I swear to you, my Lily, that I did fight it and I fought it for you. I'm so sorry that it wasn't enough."

 

She silenced him with a kiss. As though she truly didn't blame him. She should, he thought. They were slow and tender as they came together. When they parted in the early morning hours they knew that it was goodbye. Simon hated himself just a little bit more then.  He hadn't thought it was possible to hate himself more.

 

He fought it. It would have been so much easier to succumb and embrace the madness.

 

Dark Arts.

 

They’re as beautiful as the crimson witch that he still found himself ensnared by. And just as enticing. It was _fascinating_. And for a time he allows his curiosity to lead him once more. To a point. He tried very hard to give himself a hardline. Whenever this ended, when it came to its conclusion he desperately wanted to be able to tell his sweet Lily that he was still a good, honorable man.

 

As their seventh year passed, Simon watched from afar as James Potter courted his witch. He watched them grow closer as he, himself, was dragged further into the darkness that he wasn't sure he would ever escape from. He knew when they parted in September that his Lily would never truly be his again. He accepted it as the consequence of his weaknesses. He couldn’t and absolutely wouldn’t, begrudge her happiness. He knew at least that Potter was an honorable man.

 

She deserved a brave and honorable man.

 

Not to say that something hadn’t shattered inside him as he watched the newly formed relationship blossom.

 

The train home at the end of the final year is a painful one. Two wizards bearing the foul mark. One pleased one reluctant. Both missing the radiating warmth from the smile of a ginger witch.

______________________________________

01 November 1981

 

Simon Avery was not a stupid man.

 

He knew that he had gotten blood on his hands, innocent blood at that. He knew that he had tears in his soul that would probably never heal. He knew there was a taint in his Magic that would likely never be clean. He knew that there were memories that he would never regain and more than a few that he would never forget.

 

But at that moment, in those midmorning hours on the first of November, as he sat in a Ministry holding cell all he could focus on was trying to contain the shattered pieces of his heart. The pieces that had shattered when he had heard the news of Lily Potter’s death. Her murder. By the abomination who had permanently damaged his soul and his Magic.

 

He _knew_ , he'd known from the very start that the man was a plague on their world.  He'd tried to tell his father and he's gotten cursed in response.  And now that man had robbed the world of the most beautiful and elegant creature that Simon had ever had the privilege to meet.

 

She was gone. And he sat pending his hearing. But his Lily was gone from this world. What sort of cruel world allowed the pure beauty to be snuffed but allowed the foul to continue breathing?

 

When his name was finally called and he was brought to task in front of the Wizengamot, he knows she’d never forgive him if she knew what was missing from his list of crimes. Would she have forgiven him, though? His soul prayed for her forgiveness. He certainly couldn’t have told her truthfully that he was indeed still a good, honorable man. No, the honorable man was the one she chose to marry in the end. The one who died protecting his wife and child.

 

James Potter faced down their Master’s wand and died with honor.

 

Simon Avery knelt before their Master’s wand and lived with the demons as a result.

 

Imperius. It wasn’t false. He clung to the washy facts like a lifeline. He did, after all, have a healthy sense of self-preservation.

 

As the heir to a House listed among the Sacred Twenty-eight, it surprised no one when he was found cleared of charges in a perfunctory proceeding.  Simon let himself fade from the forefront of interest.  He gave the media and the general population no reason to speak his name or to find interest in his comings and goings.

 

The name of Avery was now known for something.  It was shameful that his House was forever doomed to be associated with death and dishonor.  No longer was Simon Avery a name of amused exasperation, rather it was one of cruelty and fear.

 

Never had he felt so ashamed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter turned eleven that year and would be returning to Wizarding World. Both of the wizards were unsure what to make of that. For ten years Lily Potter had been gone from the world. How did one reconcile that they had generally wasted an entire decade of their lives?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, So Simon Says is officially no longer a Double Shot. It will be at least three chapters, perhaps more depending on how my muse takes shape. I feel like this chapter was very necessary though much longer than I originally anticipated. Ten years is a long time to go with no information about a primary character so this one circles heavily around Simon. Sorry to disappoint but Hermione won't be appearing until Chapter 3 but I can promise she'll come in shining heavily in the next chapter. That being said, I hope you enjoy chapter two! 
> 
> PS. I'm always grateful for constructive criticism!
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ABD

Isolation is not something that is good for a person's mental wellbeing. It distorts proprioception in ways few other things can. It could cause hallucinations and increase paranoia to inexplicable levels. It makes the person more susceptible to illness. Normal sleep patterns are a gone thing. Memory is questionable. Demons came out to play. And nightmares were inescapable.

 

The first two years following his day in front of a Wizengamot, Simon kept himself in a state of almost permanent isolation in an attempt to allow the public to forget the taint that he had painted onto his name. The furthest that he permitted himself to leave Avery Hall was to the nearby market on a rare occasion.

 

The year leading up to the first Halloween following the death of James and Lily Potter and Simon's subsequent arrest was spent in a state of severe self-flagellation.

 

The following Simon spent with a deep sense of introspection. His grief, regret and shame still weighed heavily on him.  He very much doubted that would ever not be the case.  However, his second year of self-imposed isolation brought much revelation.

 

For example, Simon was just as unremarkable of a wizard at twenty-three as he had been at eleven.  The mirrors scattered throughout the Hall still showed a bland wizard.  Same nearly monotone brown hair, though he had allowed it to grow much longer in his isolation than he ever had as a free man.  Same plain blue eyes.  He had, at least, gained some height over the preceding thirteen years, falling just over six foot.  Same unremarkable Simon Avery.

 

He was at least well-read.  Two years with no company save for his family elves was very conducive to working one's way through the library, after all.  His father died months before the Potters and his mother never saw his Hogwarts completion.  Darian avoided him and he wasn't entirely certain that Severus even knew where to find him. All things considering, it really hadn't been difficult to disappear into his home. Even the hateful letters had stopped at some point within the first year.

 

His attention was drawn to the damaged state of his mind sometime around mid-June of that second year when he realized that he was losing weeks at a time.  He could no longer count on his memory to tell him the date.  When he went to bed once it was dark enough to not be 'too' early, his memory was quite keen to bring up all of his past indiscretions. Simon wasn't sure which was worse, remembering or the twisted embellishments that his mind seemed to add to each memory.

 

Only the cooling temperatures and the changing of the trees told Simon that it was autumn and Hogwarts season once more.  Halloween, he knew, must be drawing near once again.

 

The thirty-first of October 1983 found him sitting in a comfortable wingback chair near the crackling fireplace, book on his lap and whiskey tumbler placed carefully onto the table next to him. Neither thing was holding his attention, however.  The whiskey sat untouched since he'd poured it and he wasn't sure that he had even turn a single page in his book over the last several hours.

 

His gaze was locked firmly onto the crackling flames dancing in the hearth. Locked on, but not really seeing. Like much of the previous year, Simon was looking into himself in yet another evening of introspection.

 

Lily had been gone for two years. But, if he was being honest, she had been gone from him for much longer than that. She hadn't been his in many of years.  It really was time that he stopped letting her cycle through his emotions on a regular basis. Not, he knew, that it was _she_ that was actually doing it but his own twisted mind that saw fit to continue punishing him. 

 

Her death hurt.  He'd be a liar to claim otherwise.  Simon may be a lot that he never thought he would become but he prided himself on not falling into lying as well.  Not even to himself.  So yes, Lily Potter's death hurt.  She was his first love.  You just didn't forget your first love. Their relationship hadn't ended on a sour note.  Her smile was just as warm, albeit tinged with sadness, when they parted the final time. They didn't row, neither had strayed. His relationship with Lily Evans had been pure.  Even if the entire duration was done in relative secret.

 

But, all of that considered, Simon didn't have her death on his hands.  Something for which he would never be more grateful.  He loathed his Master, but he was also thankful that he was not forced to turn his wand on the witch.

 

Not that he hadn't crossed wands with her husband once or twice in skirmishes.  He was very discrete in his attempts to only use nonlethal spells towards the other man. Simon was envious of James Potter's place by her side, but he would be damned if he would rob her happiness.

 

He pondered over that night two years ago.  He had heard that Black was responsible.  Simon wasn't sure he bought it.  It just didn’t make sense.  How in the world did Black go from white sheep of the Black family to turncoat on people who were as good as family to him? It didn't make sense

 

Granted, Simon thought, there was very little from the last days of the war that truly made sense.

 

Why did the Dark Lord want the Potters anyway? Sure, James was a powerful wizard in his own right and Lily was the Muggleborn that was evidence of His lies. But why did he search them out? What was it that marked them for Death hand delivered by the Dark Lord, himself? On a day as symbolic as Halloween at that?

 

Simon wondered, briefly, what happened to Lily's boy after the two passed. He hoped the kid was safe and healthy, hidden away somewhere. He had heard that Lily had put herself in front of the Curse aimed at the babe.  What _was_ the Dark Lord thinking?

 

The wizard shook himself from his musings briefly and raised his eyes from the fire to the large clock mounted above the mantle. Halloween was very nearly over, he noted, watching the hands mark the eleven o'clock hour.

 

He really ought to move himself to his bed.  It wasn't often he kept himself up so late.

 

But it was Halloween.

 

And he was allowing himself to say goodbye.

 

With that thought he sat down his book on the table in front of him and rose from the comfortable chair.  Once he had reached the sideboard, he carefully poured a generous amount into two more tumblers which he carefully carried over to the fireplace.

 

He closed his eyes and focused on the Magic within him for a moment. Drawing strength from it and pulling it forward.  When he finally reopened his eyes, Simon studied the glasses in his hands in silence before tossing both into the fire.

 

"James and Lily Potter, may you rest easy.  We shall pick up your battle," He intoned in a semi-ritualistic manner. And perhaps it was. It wasn't a traditional ritual of Old. But it had the meaning behind it. He was two years late, but he was giving his farewells.

 

That led him to another introspective line of thought, as he stood there, bathed in the warmth of the fire that was crackling angrily at the addition of alcohol.  His farewell had led him to promise to take up the battle.  _Their_ battle.  His eyes moved to his clothed left forearm and stared blankly.

 

Perhaps that was something worth pondering on another day.  Simon shook the clouded thoughts from his mind and returned to his own tumbler, downing the remaining liquid in a moment before making his way up to his room.

 

His two years of self-imposed isolation would come to an end. Eventually.  Perhaps come summer he would seek out Severus.  A familiar face might make for a welcome distraction from his impromptu promise to the deceased Potters.

 

The final hour of Halloween passed without much fanfare and soon so did Yule and the mark of the New Year.  Simon had yet to relieve himself of his isolation.

 

After so long alone, the prospective of reintroducing himself into the larger world was quite a daunting feat to consider.  He still rarely left the Hall but when he did, he encouraged himself to linger out just a little longer.  An hour or two more.

 

It was around the Easter holiday time where Simon found that he was able to leave just after breakfast and return home by dinner time without too much negative effect.

 

What would his Master think if he knew his so-called loyal follower could only manage time out of his home in the local muggle towns?

 

Well, Simon thought, that makes it even more tempting to keep within Muggle areas.

 

Finally, towards the end of May 1984, Simon brought himself to Diagon Alley. It hadn't changed much while he was in seclusion. Most of the shops were the same as they were when he had come to collect his supplies for his first year of Hogwarts. It pleased him to note that very few, if any of the witches and wizards passing him seemed to recognize him.  Perhaps the Avery name had been forgotten again.  Or perhaps their minds were waiting for him to voice the name in order to connect him with the Darkness that he hated to be capable of.

 

Either way, he didn't stick around to find out.  His trip to Diagon Alley was intentionally kept short. He did choose to stop by Gringott's and check the status of his vaults and several of his financial investments.

 

It wasn't until early July that he took it upon himself to contact Severus. First, by letter carried by one of his scarcely used owls. It had been friendly enough but also attempted to gauge the other's man's willingness to meet and move forward.

 

The return response was short and to the point, nothing more than what he had expected from his surly former housemate.  It was simply an address and a time.  A little bit of reconnaissance in the days leading up to their meeting taught Simon that the address was to a dingy little muggle pub. Well, it seemed pubic enough to ensure neither man would let the meeting get too far out of hand lest they end up back in Auror custody.

 

On the stifling hot evening of the fourteenth of July, Simon pushed his way through the pub doors at precisely seven o'clock.  His blue eyes scanned and quickly located the solemn figure he was seeking settled at a table to the far left of the entrance. As he approached, each wizard studied the other, searching for clues and less-than-noticeable tells to help them know what to expect from the meeting.

 

"Severus," Simon nodded in a semi-formal manner as he took a seat opposite.

 

"Simon," the dark haired wizard returned.

 

And then there was an almost awkward silence. Simon cued for his drink--whatever he's having--before returning his attention. "You look like shite, mate."

 

He couldn't help but stifle an amused grin as the dark haired wizard's brow raised and a sneer automatically crossed the already gloomy expression.  His friend, Simon thought, looked quite feral when he chose too.

 

He watched as Severus glared down is large nose and seemed to search for the most damaging words to throw.  Before he could get too worked up Simon leaned back into his chair, wrapping his hands around the cold mug that had been sat in front of him. "It's been a few years, hasn't it? What, going on five now?"

 

"That's about correct," Severus confirmed. "It had been well over a year before…well _before_."

 

Neither had to specify what 'before' meant.  Before Lily's death, before the Dark Lord's disappearance. Before their arrest and subsequent release. _Before_.

 

"Five years," Simon mused.  "And tell me, friend, what has kept you occupied these last three, _since_?"

 

Since she was murdered, since _he_ vanished, since they were granted a measure of freedom.

 

"I teach," the solid man scowled. "At Hogwarts.  Dumbledore saw fit to hire me as the newest Potions Master."

 

" _You're_ teaching?" Simon asked, tone tinged with disbelief. "How in the world did he come to that logic? No disrespect intended, Severus, but you've never quite been the most patient or tolerant sort."

 

Severus gave a half shrug, "It's _Dumbledore_ , I'm quite sure logic was never a part of the equation."

 

That was fair, Simon decided.

 

"I suspect that he doesn't believe that _He_ is truly gone.  Having a follower in his back pocket has its benefits, I would imagine."

 

"Now _that_ would make sense," Simon agreed.  For all his uniqueness, the Headmaster always did seem to be at least a couple steps ahead of the rest. His mind landed on a little bit of information that the other man had revealed. "He doesn't believe that the Dark Lord is gone?"

 

Severus leveled him with an even stare, careful to give nothing away, dropping his gaze to the covered forearm of his brother in arms, "Do you? Truly?"

 

Simon shifted uncomfortably, pushing his sleeves to reveal the hated Mark, still almost as dark and bold as it was the very day that he had been marked.  It had faded very slightly in the days following their Lord's disappearance. But it was still there.  He could still feel the taint in his Magic. "No, not truly, I suppose. Though I can't say that I hadn't hoped."

 

"I never took you for idealism," Severus snarked.

 

"It's not so much idealism as it is hope that we would truly be free," Simon shrugged. "You know as well as I do it was never my choice to be Marked.  I never went willingly though, I admit, I may have stopped fighting it as hard towards the end. So yes, I have been…hopeful."

 

The other wizard nodded, almost miserably. "I imagine the old coot knows more than he's letting on, but truth be told, that's par for the course that is Albus Dumbledore.  He holds his cards quite close to the vest at the best of times."

 

The two sat in silence, emptying their glasses in steep contemplation.  Simon looked from his glass to his childhood friend and sighed before taking a very serious risk, "Would you be pleased to have our Master returned, Severus?"

 

The question caused the dark wizard's head to raise in a way that was very controlled.  Any other man would have snapped his head under the same situation, but Severus Snape had always been a man of control.  His features were carefully blank though Simon watched his eyes zip back and forth over his face, trying to gain clues as to the motivation behind the question.

 

Any Death Eater, willing or no, would be very cautious answering such a question. Especially without knowing the questioner's motives for asking.  Such a thing could easily be the cause of the answering wizard's death.  But Simon was a reluctant addition to the Death Eater ranks and still every bit as tenacious as he had been as a child. Simon watched carefully as Severus weighed the risks of confiding.

 

"Nothing would please me more," Severus began, carefully choosing his words. "If the masses were correct and the infallible Albus Dumbledore was not."

 

Simon leaned solidly back into his chair, a sense of relief rushing over him.  Severus joined the ranks all too willingly and had _thrived._ Right up until he didn't. The man sitting across from him was every bit as solemn as he'd been as a youth but there was a lingering sense of _brokenness_ in his old friend that was undeniably new.

 

"I find myself in the awful position of agreeing with Dumbledore," Simon stated. Severus nodded heavily in agreement.

 

"It is why I am at Hogwarts.  I am useful, for now, in the eventual reality that the Dark Lord returns."

 

"You're a spy," the revelation bounced around in Simon's head. "However did he convince you to do such a thing? What has the old man have over you, friend?"

 

He watched remorse and regret flashed over the usually stoic expression and Simon found himself quite concerned, if he were honest.

 

"I made a grave mistake during those final months," Severus admitted. "It was I who approached Dumbledore for help, the old man doesn't give without receiving something as well.  For an old Gryffindor with strong prejudice, he has a very conniving Slytherin streak."

 

"I heard that Black was the cause?" Simon asked, critically.  He was no stranger to the rivalry between Black and Potter and Severus throughout their school years. But that Black would turn on his friends tasted wrong.

 

Severus snarled, reminding Simon once again of his friend's knack for looking quite feral. "She _should_ have been safe if that bastard had been able to keep his mouth shut."

 

"Come on, Severus, I know very well your dislike for the pair of them," Simon chided. "But can you really believe that Sirius Black had joined our ranks? And not been killed for his inability to keep his mouth shut within the first month? Truly?"

 

"A spy is a spy," Severus dismissed. "I'd imagine the Dark Lord would be as tolerant of Black's ridiculousness as Dumbledore is of my dreary arse."

 

"Unlikely," Simon snorted. "We've both been on the receiving end of punishments for everyone else's ridiculousness in addition to our own.  He had an even lower tolerance than you do."

 

"I'll cede that point," the darker wizard nodded. "But even Dumbledore's lot believes Black was the traitor."

 

"I'm not saying it's _impossible_ that he might have defected," Simon shrugged. "I'm just saying that the whole deal isn't adding up. We watched Potter's gang in school. I'd pass that worm Pettigrew off as the defect before I'd go with Black.  He just doesn't fit the puzzle."

 

Severus considered the argument for a moment in silence. With Pettigrew dead, there was no way to confirm or deny the theory. Which meant, even if Black _was_ innocent, Severus still loathed the man for stealing the one chance for answers. He downed the last of his brew before glancing miserably at Simon, "Her boy will be three at the end of the month."

 

Simon blinked in surprise at the switch in conversation, but took it in stride. "What did the goat do with the boy? There's not been sight or sound of the lad since…well _since_."

 

"I'm to understand that Dumbledore placed the boy in the care of _her_ sister," Severus said, voice once again tightly controlled.

 

"The Muggles?" Simon asked, thinking over the many of conversations he had with Lily about how awful her sister had begun treating her. That's where they had her boy growing up? "Is he safe?"

 

"He's safe from _us_ and our brethren. Is he safe from the Muggles? That remains to be seen."

 

The pair lapsed into silence, taking the moment to order, receive and drain nearly half of their second round.  Such heavy topics to discuss upon reunion.

 

"Where did you disappear to?" Severus asked, curiously.

 

"Avery Hall.  I required a length of solitude to," Simon tilted his head, considering his words, "to recover and regain something of what I had of myself before being forced to wear this awful Mark."

 

"Alone? For three years?" Severus asked, tone bordering as close to scolding--to _caring_ \--as Simon had heard in a very long time.

 

"Yes, myself and the elves, but yes.  Seclusion was necessary for a time," Simon confirmed.

 

"For a passably intelligent wizard, you're rather stupid at times, aren't you?" Severus said snidely.

 

"Pardon?"

 

"Or is it that you think that _I'm_ the stupid of the pair? I'll have you know my intellect has always, and will always be superior," the dark wizard said with a touch of arrogance.

 

"Well aren't you just quite puffed of yourself," Simon said, a bit dumbfounded at the turn.

 

"Did you _really_ think that I was so stupid as to _not_ notice your relations with Lily? That I didn't notice you both disappeared at the same times for a period of nearly four years?" Severus studied the shock that blossomed over his friend's face and smirked condescendingly. "You did.  You really thought that you'd kept it a neat little secret."

 

"When did you realize and why did you never say anything?" Simon asked.

 

"I figured it out when you cornered me after the mess at the end of fifth year.  I'd suspected _something_ for some time before that but that's when you all but confirmed it. What good would it have done me to speak up about it? She was lost to me by that point," Severus shrugged. "Am I to assume that your _relationship_ ended once you received your Mark?"

 

Simon found himself nodding, "It did. It was mutual. We both knew that continuing only put her in more danger."

 

"All the more fool are you," Severus shrugged. "Giving her up to Potter."

 

"Perhaps," Simon conceded. It was always a possibility that they could have kept her safe by placing claim on her.  It _was_ possible.  But then Simon also recalled the reluctant Death Eater's whose families and loved ones were used to keep them in compliance. His own father's misconduct within the ranks of his former schoolmate was the very reason why both of Simon's sisters had fled to the continent and disappeared immediately thereafter.  So it was equally as likely that the Dark Lord would have discovered the little witch's unusual control over two of his Death Eater's and sought to use her and her power. "Or perhaps she would have been just as damned as we. Would you have really sought to drag such purity into the shadows with us? It would have destroyed her, Severus."

 

"And Potter got her killed!" Severus fumed.

 

"He did not," He argued, firmly. "I have no love for the man but he at least had and retained his honor unto death.  He faced down our Master's wand to protect _Her_ to protect their son. To blame Potter would be to blame Lily.  Can you truly fault Lily for her own murder?"

 

"If anyone failed her," Simon continued, "If any one truly failed to keep her safe it is you and I. We knew what our brethren are and our Master was capable of.  We knew the danger her family was in, even if He did not give much by way of details as to why. But we _knew_. And what did we do, Severus? What did we do to stop her murder?'

 

He noticed with no small amount of curious interest when the previous expression of remorse with an addition of shame washed over the dark wizard's expression. It was very nearly palpable as the heavy feelings rolled off his friend. His childhood tenacity reared its head and Simon narrowed his eyes observantly, noting idly that Severus made no attempt to answer what had been somewhat a rhetorical set of questions.

 

"Severus," Simon began lowly, "What did you do? What do you know?"

 

The wizard in question appeared to be battling with himself as to whether or not to be truthful in his answer. A heavy sigh and a sinking set in the man's shoulders told Simon that he was unlikely to enjoy the information he was about to hear.

 

"The year before that Halloween, early that prior summer, I was scheduled to have an interview with Dumbledore to teach at the school. It was, of course, on the Dark Lord's orders that I reach out to the Headmaster.  Gain his trust, if possible." Severus began, spinning his mug idly as he put his thoughts into words. "I was due to meet the Headmaster at seven o'clock one at the Hog's Head. Being as I am, I was considerably early to the interview. I did not get the Defense position as I had hoped but the Headmaster agreed to bring me on for Potions. He may not have much liked me but having the youngest Potions Master in centuries teaching the next generation of witches and wizards is a very hard potential for a school to ignore. Apparently, he had an interview immediately after mine.  One with the witch Sybil Trelawney--"

 

"Relation to Cassandra?" Simon asked, unable to stop himself from interrupting.

 

"Granddaughter, I believe," Severus confirmed. "I was curious and thought it might be possible to gather some worthwhile information for the Dark Lord about this possible new Seer.  Apparently the interview was going rather poorly when the witch revealed she had inherited some of Cassandra's gifts. A prophecy. I only heard perhaps half of it before the Hog's Head owner caught me snooping and, quite literally threw me out on my arse."

 

"I took both my successful interview and what I overheard of the prophecy directly to the Dark Lord," Severus said, voice becoming laced with pain. " _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies_ *. I warned him that I hadn't heard the entirety. That was all I was able to overhear."

 

"Lily's boy was born at the end of July," Simon said weakly, recalling the earlier conversation. "You sent him after her."

 

"It was the Potter boy or the Longbottom's, they have a boy just a day older than Potter," Severus confirmed. "As soon as I realized that he had marked Lily's son as his target I went to Dumbledore, I met with him and begged him to protect them.  I turned spy for his Order.  Not that it mattered in the end, she's still gone and somehow her boy survived the Killing Curse."

 

Simon sat stock still. His mind running quickly through the information he had been given before running through it once more, much more slowly.  Severus, he noted absently, was staring at him cautiously as though he were waiting for the expected rejection. Simon ran a hand through his brown hair, pushing the mass back away from his face and allowed a heavy sigh to escape.

 

"Will you continue to spy when He returns," Simon asked, quietly.

 

"It is my fault she is dead, that her boy lives on without his parents," Severus said. "It is my responsibility to ensure he makes it through when the inevitable happens.  So yes, I intend to continue."

 

"It's a dangerous path you've chosen, friend," Simon warned.

 

"I'll do what I must."

 

Simon knew that Severus had a stubborn streak nearly as long and strong as their dearly departed witch. There would be no convincing him away from his chosen course.  It was not necessarily a poor trait to have but he couldn't deny that he worried quite a bit about the path his friend had chosen.  In his own mind, he could swear to help where and when he could.

 

"What will you do?" Severus asked.

 

"I'm not sure. I do not wish to pick up where he left off, to be certain.  However, we are both wise enough to know just what happens when someone attends to 'quit' the ranks. It is not beneficial to one's survival," Simon shrugged.  He had pondered over the very same question several times over the previous three years.

 

The conversation continued and the men allowed themselves a barest hint of hope to bleed through at the tentative bonds of kinship that were slowly healing between them.

 

When they parted ways, Simon assured the other man that the doors of Avery Hall would always be open, should he need or want a place to which he could disappear.  It was agreed that this gloomy little pub at the edge of town would be a perfect place to meet on a regular basis.  Monthly, they found was fair. It gave Severus a break from the children at the school--those poor children, Simon thought in amusement--and it gave Simon a reason to break from his solitude.

 

Months passed, and then years passed. Simon watched the eighties end in a pub in Muggle London, with Severus seated across the table. Both finding amusement in watching the chaos of the celebrating muggles. It was good, Simon thought, to find a sense of comradery that he had denied himself immediately following their Master's disappearance.

 

The thirteenth of July, 1991 found the two men at the same dingy Muggle pub that they had favorited over the years, seated in the same seats, at the same table that they always did.  This year, however, found both men just as gloomy as the pub in which they sat.

 

Harry Potter turned eleven that year and would be returning to Wizarding World. Both of the wizards were unsure what to make of that.  For ten years Lily Potter had been gone from the world. How did one reconcile that they had generally wasted an entire decade of their lives?

 

The men reminisced about that very first Hogwarts Express ride that changed their social tide, presumably for the better.  Severus polished off his first brew of what would be many and sighed heavily, "I'll have to make sure that he hates me."

 

Simon cocked his head to the side in question, "Who would need to hate you?"

 

"The Potter boy," Severus huffed. "Can you imagine what the Dark Lord would do if he returned to find that I had grown close to his chosen target?"

 

"He would force you to bring the boy directly to him," Simon agreed. "That doesn't mean you can't still look out of the lad though."

 

"If he's anything like his father then he will be hard pressed to keep himself out of trouble," the dark man sneered. "Merlin help him if he chooses that path to bullying and harassment as well."

 

"You'll let me know, won't you?" Simon requested. "It seems I've thrown my lot in with you, and with him. I should like to know that he's well.  For her and our sakes, if nothing else."

 

The pair determinedly avoided discussing the previous revelations regarding Severus' role in the Potter's death.  Not particularly to assuage the man's guilt but to allow them to move forward.  They could only truly pull of the intended deception with a clear head.  Guild and shame tended to cloud a man's judgement.

 

Their next meeting wasn't until just before Halloween that year.  Simon could tell the moment the man appeared at the front door to the Hall that he was furious. Without a word, he led the angry wizard to the study and plied him with whiskey. "Alright, out with it, you loon."

 

"Dumbledore is up to something and I can't quite pinpoint what," Severus said, frustrated. "He's testing the boy. But I can't for the life of me understand the end game."

 

"It should be obvious," Simon shrugged. "Despite being a relatively innocent eleven year old boy, the Headmaster plays by different rules.  He is inevitably starting to shape the boy into some sort of weapon to be used against the Dark Lord, when the time comes."

 

That answer didn't seem to encourage the dark wizard. "I was afraid that he would do something to that effect. Unfortunately, the boy hero worships the Headmaster and will follow along with all these ridiculous plans like a lamb to slaughter."

 

"Perhaps we can play the game as well," Simon considered thoughtfully. "Is there any others of influence that we might be able to manipulate into training him passively without attention being brought to who's pulling the puppet strings?"

 

"Not as of yet," Severus said, head tilted in consideration. "I will endeavor to keep an eye out for that very potential.  If only that boy knew half of what the rest of the world is doing in effort to keep him safe.  Perhaps he'd not be so quick for mischief."

 

"You say that as though you spent your student years utterly droll," Simon smirked. "Let the boy have some fun.  He's only going to be allowed to be young for so long before that's taken from him as well."

 

Severus grunted, commenting on neither statement. Though he couldn't deny the validity of the first nor the logic and truth of the second. It was an unfortunate truth that the boy would not be permitted to be a boy the entire duration of his childhood. "I believe his _relatives_ have already stolen some of that childhood innocence from him."

 

"They've harmed him?" Simon said, expression tinted with growing anger.

 

"I am unsure if they've physically harmed the boy," Severus admitted. "However, he is considerably small for his age both in height and weight.  I doubt they feed him nearly what his development requires. Positive physical touch is something he was unlikely to be familiar with prior to attending Hogwarts.  Our matron suggests that he is severely underweight and undernourished. There is evidence of injuries that had been left to heal on their own, incorrectly at that. Nothing confirms that he has been physically harmed but neglect has definitely occurred."

 

"And yet Dumbledore requires him to return?" Simon asked in disbelief. "Unbelievable."

 

When Severus returned to the school the two wizards were set on training the young wizard discretely through the manipulation of a third party.  They just had to find the right third party to influence the Potter child.  Severus was insistent that _Ronald Weasley_ was not that person.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione Granger goes to Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, I've got two more chapters in the work. I know, I know. Every time I post a chapter this story decides that it needs to be that much longer. I had to forcibly cut this one off or it would have been something along the lines of astronomically long. Isn't it funny what muses dictate? So anyway, it's a work in progress. I'll update you on each chapter on what the current expectation is. I'm trying super hard not to linger too long on any particular thing without rushing it also. It's a weird balance. Let me know how I'm doing on it, yeah? Feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Anywho! I hope you enjoy. Here's chapter 3 and Hermione Granger!
> 
> ABD

 

Despite her very young age, Hermione Granger was known for her insatiable curiosity and her unrelenting thirst for knowledge. It was her life quest, she decided around age eight, to someday know _everything_. She had since pared that down to as much as absolutely possible. Everything, she thought, might be just a little bit too ambitious despite her very generous capabilities.

 

Hermione had also grown into what she felt was a very compassionated but unyielding moral fiber.  A good person did not lie, cheat, or steal.  A truly _good_ person worked towards the betterment of the world around them. They didn't kick others when they were already down, they didn't rob what happiness the other person had. A good person was _kind_ and _understanding_ even when they disagreed with one another. 

 

Hermione had learned quite quickly that most of the children that she went to primary school with were not _nice_ children.  They were rather awful and cruel, if she were honest. Only a genuinely unkind person picked on the flaws that they _knew_ their target struggled with. Only the genuinely unkind would pick and tease incessantly for _years._ Yes. The children that she knew were _not_ good people.  She strived to, one day, make them eat their words.

 

Determined, not vindictive, she insisted.

 

Yes, she felt she was a good, kind, _honest_ person.  But she really had no desire to be a pushover either. But…maybe...the only way to not feel so very lonely was to not be such a good person?  She tried, for a time, to hide her sense of morality and her thirst for learning.  She tried to stuff it away in a box somewhere deep inside of her, in hopes that she just _might_ be able to make and keep a couple of friends.

 

Who was she kidding, she would never be anything more than a swotty _freak_. Perhaps she just wasn't meant to have friends.  Many scholars throughout history were solitary creatures, right?  Perhaps that was her destiny as well.  Perhaps she was simply destined to learn the world by herself.

 

Yes, that simply must be it.  She didn't need all of those awful children she schooled with.

 

When the doorbell rang to her family's comfortable home on that quiet mid-July morning leading up to her twelfth birthday the entire Granger family was surprised as they had no expectations of company.  When their visitor revealed herself to be a _witch_ and proclaim that Hermione, too, was a witch, their surprise turned to wary concern for the strict woman sitting across from them.

 

"Your daughter has been formally invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Our Institution has the honor of being the _premier_ school in the entirety of the United Kingdom," the stern lady explained. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall and I am Transfiguration Mistress at the school."

 

"I mean no disrespect, ma'am," Hermione said slowly, eying the professor and her parents warily. "But Magic isn't real."

 

"I assure you, Miss Granger, it is quite real," Minerva said, studying the young witch before turning her sharp gaze to the parents speaking quietly on the couch. It took little focus for a witch of Minerva's caliber to reach into her Self and tug on the bit of magic that tied her to her animagus form.  Hermione's excited gasp echoed through the cozy sitting room when, where the witch once sat, now was a cat.  A regular grey tabby.

 

The discussion abruptly turned from whether or not magic was real to what attending this new school would mean for Hermione.

 

By the time she went to bed that night, Hermione was riding on a high like she had never experienced.  A new school!  She _wasn't_ a freak!  Maybe, just maybe, there would be more good people like her at this new school.  Maybe she would actually make friends _and_ be able to work towards her goal of knowledge and betterment.

 

Between the excitements of Diagon Alley, which all of the Granger's agreed was quite a wonderful little corner of the world, and reading through all her upcoming course books July and August flew by.  And suddenly, somehow, the first of September was upon the Grangers.

 

Once they had crossed through the barrier--how _fascinating_ , I wonder how it works-- Hermione rocked back onto her heels, chewing idly on her lower lip and stared, for a moment, at the beautiful, scarlet monstrosity that was the Hogwarts Express. She wouldn't admit it aloud, not to _anyone_ , but she felt more than just a little intimidated right then, standing there on the platform.

 

Intimidated but Hermione Granger was not easily deterred.

 

Hermione said a warm, tear-filled, goodbye to her parents with promises to write at least twice weekly and reminders of how soon Christmas would be upon them and she would be back home.  She would miss them.  They had been the only _good_ constant she had known this far into her young life.  It was the bullies, her books and her parents.  Those were her constants.  Now? Well, she still had books, so that had to account for something.

 

Feeling the usual tug of excited curiosity when given a new subject, the young witch squared her shoulders and gave her trunk a firm tug as she boarded the train. Being as the Grangers had intentionally arrived so very early it was quite easy to find an unoccupied compartment to settle her belongings.  Standing in the center of the compartment, Hermione turned in a slow, cursory circle to study the small compartment that she would be inhabiting for the duration of her very first trip to Hogwarts.

 

She was going to Hogwarts!  Hermione could barely contain the excited squeal that very nearly worked its way out of her.  She was determined to present a dignified front when approaching this new situation.  She would _not_ allow herself to indulge in the juvenile behavior that her _muggle_ peers seemed to favor.   Young witches and wizards didn't act like that, did they?  She so very much hoped not.

 

Hermione took a deep, calming breath and perched herself onto one of the bench seats, up against the window so that she could watch the comings and goings of her perspective classmates and their families. What better way to learn than to observe, after all.

 

As she watched, she swung her feet, noticing idly that, even sitting all the way forward on her seat, her toes still didn't so much as graze the floor. She wondered if they would by the time they left the school for Christmas? Maybe in May at the end of term?  Would she get a growth spurt this year? The young witch cringed, wondering if Magic had a remedy to growing pains.  How she loathed that bone deep ache.

 

Her idle musings and observations were interrupted when a young boy all but fell into the compartment.  He looked to be somehow tangled up with his trunk and his robes but Hermione wasn't quite certain how the boy had managed that.  He was a little clumsy apparently, wasn't he?

 

It was then that the boy realized that his struggle hadn't gone unnoticed and his round face flushed a dark red in his embarrassment. "Sorry about that," he muttered sheepishly. His flush seemed to deepen when Hermione pushed herself off of her seat and approached to help detangle the mess he had found himself in.

 

He collapsed onto the bench opposite where Hermione retook her seat with a relieved sigh.  "Thank you, I'm Neville, Neville Longbottom."

 

"Hermione Granger," she introduced herself.  "Are you very excited to be going to Hogwarts, Neville?"

 

"Oh yes!" the boy said eagerly.  "We were sure that I was a squib, you see.  It wasn't until Uncle Algie dropped me out of a window and I actually _bounced_!  The whole family has been so relieved."

 

Hermione tilted her head at the unfamiliar term but her sense of horrified outrage was momentarily stronger than her curiosity, " _Dropped you out of a window?_ Why ever would your Uncle drop you out of a window? And what's a squib?"

 

"A squib is a person from a family of magic who's not got any of their own," Neville said and then shrugged. "Accidental magic in kids happens when emotions are high.  Anger, happiness, fear.  So I guess he was hoping to scare the magic out of me? It worked. I didn't realize the ground come so quickly when you're tumbling out of a window!"

 

Hermione felt herself gaping at the boy and had to force her mouth to close and her gaze away from the boy across from her.  Was that sort of thing the _norm_ in the world she now found herself?  Was she _really_ supposed to find her home among apparent barbarians? 

 

The train rattled into motion and she was once again pulled from her furious musing when a panicked wail escaped her companion and she darted her gaze up quickly to watch the boy jump from his seat and begin patting down all of his pockets in search of…? Well, she wasn't quite sure _what_ he seemed to have lost.

 

"Neville?" She asked tentatively.

 

"You didn't happen to see a toad when you were helping me untangle, did you?"

 

"A toad? No, I don't recall seeing a toad," she replied, tone conveying her confusion.

 

"I can't believe that I've lost him already! Gran is going to _kill_ me!"

 

At this point, Hermione couldn't swear herself certain that his claim was simply a figure of speech.  After all, this _was_ the culture that threw a young boy out of a window in order to force his magic.  "You had him when you boarded the train?"

 

"I did," he said sadly in thought. "I know I had him at least until I got all tangled up with my trunk."

 

"Well, then, he's got to be on the train somewhere," she decided, firmly. "Come on, Neville, I'll help you look for your toad."

 

It was on this search that Hermione happened upon Harry Potter and the rather rude boy Ronald Weasley.  Neither of _them_ appeared very well kept either.  Whatever was the matter with this secret society that she had happened upon?  She was still very excited to learn magic, but perhaps she ought to also spend some time researching the social dynamics of this world as well.  It wouldn't due for her to stay _this_ _far_ out of her depths.  Perhaps, she hoped, she was merely seeing things from a skewed perspective. 

 

She wasn't sure she much liked Ronald.  He was quite rude and seemed to lack even the barest of manners.  Even just upon their first meeting, the redheaded boy reminded her far too much of the awful children she had known from primary school.  Harry Potter, though, seemed to be an understated wizard.  Hermione wouldn't mind if _he_ wanted to be her friend.

 

Neither boy, though, had seen a toad.  Which meant she really needed to continue her search.  In case she was wrong about this horrifyingly twisted world that threw people out of windows, she would hate to potentially lose her very first wizard friend because he lost his toad.

 

By the time they had reached the station, Hermione and Neville had _not_ located the missing toad. She found it quite disturbing that her new friend wasn't more worried that his Gran might actually kill him for losing the amphibian. She truly hoped she was misreading the entire situation. 

 

Hermione admitted only to herself that the heavy sigh that escaped when the toad ended up _at the castle_ was purely out of relief for her new friend's continued longevity.

 

Hogwarts was glorious! An actual castle filled with magic!  And the _library_! 

 

But Hogwarts was _awful_.

 

Apparently wizarding children were no more pleasant than the muggle children she had known previously.  They were petty and cruel and _awful_! Hermione would never understand how there were so few _good_ people in either world.

 

Her first two months had not gone well, not at all.  Neville still seemed kind enough.  She was very grateful to the boy that seemed to be the only person in the entirety of Hogwarts to actually tolerate her presence.  _Neville,_ at least, was a genuinely good person.  It was truly disheartening to see the timid get bullied and overlooked.

 

It was on Halloween, though, that everything changed.  She went from crying alone in the girl's bathroom, to facing a grown mountain troll, to having two-- _two!_ \--new friends.  She still wasn't entirely certain about Ronald Weasley.  He was _still_ rude and obnoxious with foul table manners.  However, he _had_ helped Harry rescue her from the troll. That had to account for some form of loyalty, didn't it?

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_22 November 1991_

_SA-_

_I believe have found the solution to the problem we were attempting to overcome. I intend to continue to observe.  We will be required to meet over the Yule to further discuss how to best implement._

_-SS_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_23 November 1991_

_SS-_

_So vague and nonthreatening sounding, Severus._

_Save the codes and roundabout for Lucius, will you?_

_-SA_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

She loved Neville dearly.  He was her first friend and, more than that, a genuinely good person.  Very sweet boy, he was.  However, his knack for exploding every single potion they attempted was quite likely to be the end of her.  Literally, her end, she thought perhaps a little dramatically.  Especially considering how _she_ somehow earned and received Professor Snape's ire every time _Neville_ botched a potion. Guilt by association? Maybe? Or was she _somehow_ supposed to teach the boy through osmosis? Did wizards even know what osmosis was?  Hermione somehow thought not.

 

But then again, Professor Snape seemed the type to know a lot about _everything_ , so perhaps he might.

 

So she couldn't really color herself surprised when, following one especially explosive potions lesson shortly before the winter hols, Professor Snape demanded that she stay behind after class.  She took a deep breath to ground her nerves and carefully packed her supplies into her heavy, overflowing bag and pulled it over her shoulder.

 

Once all the other students had vacated the classroom, Hermione cautiously approached the Potion Master's desk at the head of the room and stood silently, waiting to be addressed.  The man seemed to study her very intently, as though he could see every little flaw in her being.  It was an unsettling feeling.

 

"Miss Granger," the professor began, she noted that his voice was surprisingly calm and even considering she was anticipating a scolding at best.  "You present an issue and a solution folded into one."

 

"I'm sorry, sir?" she frowned in confusion.

 

"Mister Longbottom is a disgrace in the art of Potions.  Potter and Weasley are _scarcely_ better.  Though they could be if they could be driven to pay attention in class and to their homework," the Potion's Master continued. "Yet you somehow tie into the quandary with what _could_ be exceptional first year potion's work if you were able to spend your time focusing on your brewing and not attempting to salvage the work of those around you."

 

Hermione's eyes widened.  She was expecting to be chewed out as she was routinely in class.  But this was very nearly a compliment. Slightly backhanded, but still an almost compliment.

 

"Wipe the smug off your face, silly girl," the man warned.  "Just because one has the _potential_ for exceptional work does not mean they ever truly reach their potential when they allow themselves to be held back. You cannot earn their scores for them, Miss Granger."

 

"No sir, but I can't just sit back and let them fail either, sir.  It wouldn’t be right," Hermione explained, subdued.

 

"No, I suppose you wouldn't see it as so, would you?" Severus said, thoughtfully, though internally pleased that he was reading the girl correctly. "I will warn you now, the next essay with Potter or Weasley's name written across the top but is written with your words will see all three of you failing that essay without question.  Help them with their homework, if you must, however be aware of the consequences should they attempt to convince you to do it for them."

 

"Yes, sir," the girl nodded firmly.

 

"Since you are familiar with the library, I would suggest you familiarize yourself with the Featherlight Charm by the time you board the train in May," Severus suggested, handing a note to pass along to her next class and dismissing her.  He mentally placed bets as to how long it would take the girl to utilize the Charm he had sent her after.  If the deadline was the end of final term, he thought she would likely try to master the Charm by Easter at the latest.

 

Once the girl scurried off, Severus leaned heavily into his chair, elbows on the rests and hands laced in front of him, his thumbs idly tracing along his lower lip as he sunk into his thoughts.  She was clearly a chit that worked off of praise.  But, like he had been in his youth, she had a thirst for knowledge and a keen sense on how to put that knowledge to use.  Had she not been muggleborn, the girl might have made a decent Slytherin.  

 

She was close enough to Potter _and_ to Longbottom that she might be able to peripherally do the boys some good.  Weasley was a detriment to Gryffindor.  His laziness and temper would be his undoing if he didn't grow into it and soon.  Perhaps she could be taught the benefit of observation.  Utilize observation to discover how she could best train each boy.  Beating them over the heads with information, while a mentally satisfying picture, did absolutely no good when retention was required.

 

With a flick of his wand, the classroom door slammed closed and he exited through the one behind his desk that led towards his personal quarters. After several moments of pacing, he spun towards his private desk and pulled parchment and quill before jotting two notes with all the brevity he was known for.  One would go to Simon and the other an anonymous purchase for a couple books that might be helpful in the near future.  With a sense of satisfaction, he let himself from his rooms to attend lunch in the Great Hall.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

"So do you think this girl will be willing to help?" Simon asked pensively.

 

"I do," Severus confirmed. "The chit has a loyal streak wider than any Puff's. She would see it as a strike against her integrity to have the _option_ to help but to choose not to.  We may have to covertly feed her for a time before approaching her outwardly, however.  It would be unfair to take advantage of a charge who's yet to learn caution when dealing with snakes."

 

Simon snorted, "Since when do you care about playing fair?"

 

"I don't but the girl might never forgive us for playing against her naiveté," Severus said with a smirk.

 

"A muggleborn, you said?" Simon asked, leaning back into his chair thoughtfully. "She'll have as much to risk as anyone, when he returns.  If she's as well read for a twelve year old as you've said she's likely read about the last war.  How will we convince her that he's likely to return?"

 

"At this stage it would be enough that _Dumbledore_ believes it," Severus shrugged. "Not only that…but…there very well may be something in the works at Hogwarts.  The Headmaster has _something_ up his sleeve and I feel it's likely to the detriment of Mister Potter.  And if it plays poorly for Mister Potter it's inevitably unfavorable for Miss Granger."

 

"What do you suppose it is?"

 

"He's got a trap set up," Severus sighed in frustration. "But he's holding the target of the trap quite close to the vest.  I haven't a clue.  Our Defense Professor has something to do with it.  He returned from sabbatical in Albania a changed man, and not for the best.  Terrified of his own shadow, he is."

 

" _Albania?_ " Simon repeated, eyes widening nervously.  "But--"

 

"But the Dark Lord fancied himself quite lustful over the country, yes," Severus confirmed.  "I believe Albus thinks that Quirinus is a Death Eater or a secretly kept unmarked follower."

 

"And what is your opinion?"

 

"I'll let you know when I figure that out."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Whatever Severus' opinion would have been, he'd not have guessed that his Master had possessed his fellow teacher.  Nor would he had guessed that the trap the Headmaster had set was using the Philosopher's Stone as bait. Mister Potter was lucky to be alive!

 

The evening before the Leaving Feast, Severus left his quarters on the hunt.  He was not entirely surprised to find his quarry sitting at one of the tables in the far corner of the library, slumped over a collection of books.

 

"Miss Granger," he announced, crisply. "Term is over, you've already taken all of your exams."

 

The girl jumped in start, not having heard his arrival. "Yes, sir. There's just so very much to learn. Especially culturally!  How is it that you let us muggleborns come into your culture so utterly ignorant, sir?  Doesn't that cause us to make such awful impressions of ourselves and kin?"

 

Severus studied the girl in silence for a moment, "You are correct, Miss Granger.  Muggleborns enter a new world with no introduction to the culture or expectations of the society. If you would like, I can ensure an extracurricular reading list makes its way into your Hogwarts Letter."

 

"Really?!" It was interesting to watch the girl's entire being light up at the prospect of additional reading. "Thank you, sir that would be _wonderful_!"

 

"I expect it will not infringe on your _actual_ homework assignments?"

 

The girl actually looked quite insulted at the insinuation, "Of course not, sir, I would never!"

 

"Very good," the Potions Master nodded. "Pack your things and return to your dormitory, Miss Granger. I shall see you next term."

 

The girl scrambled to return the borrowed books and gather her belongings before swinging the bag onto her shoulders.

 

"Oh, and Miss Granger?"

 

"Yes Sir?"

 

"Ten points to Gryffindor for successfully mastering a second year charm well before completing your first year curriculum," Severus said, voice tinted with idleness.

 

The girl beamed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Hermione found herself utterly bemused.  Professor Snape had, true to his word, sent a cultural reading list for her to immerse herself in over the summer holiday.  However, his reading list wasn't exactly a list.  Rather, he had actually sent her the books! She certainly hoped they were on loan and she would be able to return them once she had studied the material.  There's no way that she would be able to repay this type of purchase!

 

The reading itself was fascinating. She couldn't help but get lost in the books for hours at a time. There were so many questions she had ticking around in her head and frustratingly _no one_ to ask. After a month of reading and jotting down question after question she decided to compose a detailed document of everything she learned.  What she instinctually agreed with, disagreed with--and why-- as well as what she didn't understand.  All of that categorization was then followed by her very long, detailed list of things she had questions on.  Each question and annotation was carefully cited as to which author, book and page she had found the information from.

 

She was nothing if not thorough.

 

That document continued to grow as she reread all of the material leading up to the start of second year. By the Welcoming Feast--during which Harry and Ron had apparently decided to _crash a flying car_ into the Whomping Willow--Hermione had a notebook meticulously filled with information and questions.  She tried, unsuccessfully, to catch the Potions Master in private to begin to ask some of the more poignant questions.

 

September came and went with her failed attempts to catch the Professor.

 

On the very first Friday of October a strange owl perched itself in front of her at the Gryffindor table during breakfast. She glanced carefully around the table, noting that she was one of the very few early risers in Gryffindor, but it paid to be aware. Glancing around once more, she carefully opened the letter addressed to her.

 

_Miss Granger,_

_My name is Simon.  A little birdie has informed me that you wish to learn more about the cultural aspect of our world.  The basics and foundations of Magic. Over the summer you should have received a number of books from different perspectives.  These books are from my family's personal collection. You may use them until the information is no longer new or useful to you, at which time we will simply trade them out for new ones. Should you find it acceptable, I would be most pleased to tutor you in the ways of Magic.  However, for the time being, our lessons will take place daily via post.  The little birdie also informed me that you are an avid reader and have a knack for questions. Whatever questions you have, Miss Granger, I will do my best to answer.  Better yet, I will do my best to guide you to find the answer yourself, whenever possible._

_The first lesson I would like to teach you is this:_ _History of Magic is very different than the Foundation of Magic. Merlin was a powerful and influential wizard but he didn’t found Magic. Magic found and created Merlin. It’s not a tool. A piece of equipment to pick up and put down as you see fit. It’s the very essence of everything. The land, water, people, animals. Everything. It's the air you breathe, the food you eat, the ground you walk on. It's your heartbeat and it's in every cell of your body. Magic is the very basis of everything. Magic is everything._

_It is my families and my own personal belief that Magic does not make mistakes. There are many in our world who think otherwise.  My birdie has also informed me that you have become subjected to some of the intolerance our world has allowed to fester.  Just know and trust in your Magic.  You are Magic which means you absolutely belong._

_I much anticipate our study-by-owl communications._

_Sincerely,_

_Simon Avery_

 

Hermione's first thought was to giggle at their volatile Potions Master being referred to, multiple times, as a little birdie.  The notion was simply too ridiculous to _not_ spare a few giggles over. She couldn't put a stop to the mental imagery of the Professor with beady bird eyes and beak. Once she finally managed to compose herself she considered the full contents of the letter and what it entailed.

 

Private lessons? Even via post? Yes please! Especially over such a fascinating subject!  And they were this man, Simon Avery's personal books that he had allowed her to borrow.  This man didn't even know her and offered her books from his family's collection.  He was obviously from the upper echelon of the Wizarding Society. She recalled the name Avery from the book that broke down the Sacred Twenty-eight and the rest of the Pureblood faction. But his penmanship was quite lovely as well.  If only the boys could right so very neatly, it would make reviewing their homework a much more pleasant task.

 

She quickly dug through her bag, to withdraw a quill and parchment and began carefully composing her reply.  Hermione wrote slowly and as neatly as possible to at least make up for the fact that she hadn't the training of such elegant penmanship as this man clearly had.

 

_Mister Avery,_

_Thank you so very much for both the books on loan and the offer for lessons!  I am very much excited to accept the offer. I've attached with this letter a compilation of notes and questions that I worked on over the summer while I was reading the material. I've written out two copies of the compilation, so there's no concern if you would like to hold onto the one I send. I do apologize for my overzealousness. It's quite difficult for me to do much of anything by halves.  I do hope you don't mind._

_Thank you again,_

_Hermione J. Granger._

 

Hermione quickly dug the mentioned spiral bound muggle notebook from her bag and carefully attached the notebook and letter to the owl that had been patiently waiting.  When the owl had safely departed, Hermione allowed herself to relish in the excitement of learning.  She forced herself back to neutral when Harry and Ron showed for breakfast but she caught Professor Snape's gaze and an arched eyebrow had her ducking to hide her giggles over the "little birdie". 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_SS--_

_You weren't joking.  This girl is sharp. An entire bloody notebook full.  At least half of it is questions!_

_\--SA_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_SA--_

_You should have her in class where it's verbal._

_\--Little Birdie_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_SS--_

_Caught that one did you?_

_She asked me, today, about the Chamber of Secrets.  Her writing was different.  Rushed, panicked?_

_What's going on up at that school?_

_\--SA_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_SA--_

_There's something moving about the school petrifying students.  Filch's cat was the first but it keeps happening._

_'Enemies of the Heir beware'._

_And of course Potter is at the center of it again._

_\--SS_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_SA--_

_Your student will not be attending lessons for a time, friend. She has fallen victim._

_The Mandrakes are nearly ready._

_\--SS_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_SS--_

_Keep me updated and keep **yourself** safe, if at all possible._

_\--SA_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_Dear Simon,_

_I'm so very sorry that I hadn't replied my lessons in so very long.  You see, the Chamber of Secrets was opened around Halloween this year. It was a Basilisk. We were so very lucky that we were all petrified and not killed.  Apparently the last time that the Chamber had been opened a girl died.  Moaning Myrtle? I think she would have haunted the loo when you were a student as well.  She was the one that died the last go of the Chamber.  The good news is that I'm no longer petrified. Professor Snape was in charge of brewing the Mandrakes into a potion to revive us.  I do hope it's a potion we learn in NEWT levels. If you're not too terribly upset, would you be willing to continue our lessons through the summer?  I understand if you've already got summer plans, I would hate to intrude if you do. I very much enjoyed the lessons so far so hopefully we can at least pick it up come the start of term?_

_I hope you are well,_

_Hermione_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_SS--_

_Either at the pub or at mine, we meet just after end of term.  You owe me a story._

_\--SA_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The summer passed with limited fanfare considering the excitement of the previous term. Simon was happy to maintain the lessons over the summer.  They had grown from the Foundations and stretched the boundaries of their lessons.  The summer, he thought, was a perfect time to bring the girl up to speed on the current politics.  In addition to their lessons, they had taken on a mentor/mentee relationship and their letters grew from strictly educational to helping her grown as a witch _and_ as a person.

 

It was a dynamic that he was no longer used to but he found himself enjoying nonetheless.  The trouble began when the girl asked if it were possible to have a lesson or two over the summer face-to-face while she wasn't tucked away at the school. He was finding himself hard-pressed to tell her no.  But he wouldn't put her at risk of being seen with him in Diagon Alley.  His name has long fallen from the gossip channels but that didn't mean his deeds had been forgotten. Better to just play it safe.

 

He was just preparing to pen a letter to plan a couple of in person lessons when the door to the library flew open, startling him. Though, only one person had free reign of his home so at least that narrowed down the possibilities of who was attempting to send him to an early grave.

 

"Whatever is the matter with you?"

 

"Have you seen the _Prophet_ today?" Severus said, nearly growling.

 

"No, I've not bothered with that rubbish in a decade.  Why?"

 

Severus all but flew the newspaper onto Simon's lap. " _Black_ has escaped from Azkaban."

 

"Has he really?" Simon asked curiously as he quickly read the article.  "The paper sure hasn't lost its sense of sensationalism, has it?  So what do you think about it?"

 

"I think that I'm hoping that he's stupid enough to go to Hogwarts," Severus admitted. "I think I want answers as to what happened that night."

 

"But if he truly is after Potter than our girl is in trouble too, _again_ " Simon pointed out.

 

"Even if he's _not_ after Potter, they're all going to be in danger this year," Severus groaned, uncharacteristically.

 

"How so?"

 

"First, the Minister has decided that it's a splendid idea to send _dementors_ to Hogwarts to search for Black," the dark wizard answered. "Second, I've been tasked with brewing the _Wolfsbane_ potion this term.  That bloody wolf that Black and Potter hung around with? Lupin? Our newest Defense teacher."

 

"The dementors are troubling, for certain," Simon said thoughtfully. "Perhaps I ought to send her Healer texts my mum kept.  There's several bits about the benefits of chocolate and dementor exposure in there.  As well as information about lycanthropy."

 

"Don't forget any material referencing Patroni.  She'll want to learn that one if the aberrations are going to be haunting the school's grounds," Severus added.

 

Simon nodded in agreement, finalizing the letter that he had been attempting when Severus had stormed into the room.  He sent it off with his owl and then flicked his wand to summon the texts that he would need to pass along.

 

"Simon," the Potions Master said, drolly. "Our girl?"

 

The wizard felt himself flush suddenly before shrugging, "Tell me, despite your posturing, that you've not grown a fondness for the girl.  However reluctantly."

 

"Perhaps," Severus said noncommittedly.  "She's still a pest in class."

 

"So were you," Simon snorted. "And in the dorms. And the common room. And the Great Hall."

 

Simon ducked to avoid the book that had been lodged at his head.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets Simon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I was very reluctant to go year-by-year but I couldn't quite figure out how to flow the story without being super choppy without doing so. This and probably the next few chapters will likely be predominantly Simon centric with pop-ins from our other characters. I'm ballparking this story to reach 10-12 chapters now. Much larger than I had originally anticipated but I'm following the muse at this point.
> 
> Anyway, here is Chapter 4 in all its glory. I hope you enjoy it and look forward to reading reviews!
> 
> ABD

 

The first in-person tutoring between Simon and Hermione was scheduled for mid-afternoon on a Wednesday in mid-August at a muggle diner not too far from where he had discovered her to reside. The first thing that Simon noticed was that the girl arrived on her own.  The next was how _tall_ the tiny witch was.  At nearly fourteen, she was already quite near his shoulder in height.  Still a little thing, though.  Knees and elbows, she was.

 

The final thing that he noted, is that she was watching him quite warily.

 

"Simon?" She asked, timidly.

 

"Miss Granger, pleasure to finally meet you love," Simon nodded in greeting.  He frowned as the girl nervously perched herself onto the stool opposite himself.  He watched as she studied him intently before nervously placing a scrap of parchment onto the table and nudged it in his direction.

 

Concerned at her behavior, he lifted the sheet from tentatively from the table and quickly scanned what proved to be a copy the article scripting his Wizengamot appearance following the first war, the list of known crimes included. He raised his gaze to the girl.

 

"I had thought your name sounded familiar," She stated, nervously, as though she expected him to be angry that she had found and brought the article. That she was questioning him.

 

"Ask your questions, Hermione," Simon encouraged, gently.

 

"You're a Death Eater," she said, more statement than question.

 

"I am," he confirmed, carefully pushing up his left sleeve to reveal his hated Mark. Hermione shifted uncomfortably in the chair, eyeing the door for her exit. He carefully placed a careful hand over hers and met her gaze. "Ask your questions, I'll not hide the answers."

 

" _Why?_ " the girl asked, her voice was tinted with a sense of desperation. "Do…do you truly believe that I'm a _mistake?_ A _freak?_ "

 

"I've yet to lie to you, Hermione Granger, and I do not intend to start," Simon chided firmly. "I was not a willing recipient of this Mark, I did so because I had to.  I do firmly believe that Magic makes no mistake which means I absolutely do _not_ believe you to be a mistake nor a _freak_. Whomever has called you such should be strung up by their toenails."

 

He smiled as he watched her lips twitch at the comment, "But you're a Death Eater.  The article…it lists your crimes?"

 

"Unfortunately, there are a great many things that are _not_ listed in that article that are on my hands," Simon admitted as he stared at the article, unwilling to deceive the girl.  He sat back heavily into his seat in silence until she also held a warm tea. "I was very much unwilling in taking the Mark, Hermione, but I took it nonetheless.  At the time, my choice was the Mark and servitude or my own grave. I was sixteen at the time and I'll admit to having more self-preservation than bravery.  I had managed to avoid becoming involved in the more horrifying aspects until I had completed Hogwarts.  By the end of our seventh year the war was already in fully swing.  My reluctance was quite the running joke amongst the Death Eater circles."

 

"It became a game among the more devoted to break me, I think," Simon said, thoughtfully. "There's only so many times one can be placed under the Imperius Curse and forced to commit unimaginable tasks before your self-hatred becomes so strong that you allow it to guide your actions and you simply quit fighting your own inner Darkness.  I'm not a good man, Hermione, and my hands certainly aren't clean.  There was only so long that I fought it.  There was only so long before my actions, regrettably, became my own.  I am certainly not proud of my actions.  I'm no Lestrange or Doholov. I won't boast about my body count or my most gruesome kill. But I am not an entirely innocent man.  It was a bloody war and I have enough self-preservation to have wanted to survive it."

 

"I trust you enough to take your word, Simon," Hermione said, though it was clear to Simon that she wasn't entirely comfortable with the explanation. "Am I safe putting my trust into you?"

 

"I won't lie to you," He said, meeting her worried gaze, seriously. "The Dark Lord _will_ return.  It's simply a matter of time and your friend Potter is right in the middle of it all. And I will, unfortunately, be called to retake my previous place.  As will your Professor.  And we will return because the alternative is a very painful death."

 

"Wouldn't death be preferable, though, rather than be forced to torture and murder innocents?" Hermione asked, attempting to understand.

 

"While it's a very noble outlook, it's a very impractical one." Simon said, chiding her gently for the idealist mentality. "It would be a very difficult indeed to bring down the one who's chosen to corrupt and desecrate Magic if I'm dead. Not to mention that, as isolated as my existence has been, I quite like living."

 

"You mean--"

 

"I mean, Hermione, that the Dark Lord has taken something so very integral and twisted it beyond imagination," Simon said, firmly. "I'm not the bravest man by nature. He's destroying the very fundamentals of what Magic is.  It would be against nature to stand by and do nothing.  I did that the first go around and it cost me quite dearly. So yes, I intend to do my part stop him from the inside."

 

Hermione was studying him very intently.  "And Professor Snape?"

 

"Severus Snape had his awakening well before I did, but we are on the same page," Simon confirmed.

 

"Then why is he often so awful?" She immediately looked guilty for asking the question.

 

"I told you to ask your questions, Hermione, don't feel bad for doing so," the wizard smiled. "Severus has always been a very surly man.  It's a part of who he is. However, I'd like you to stop and think for a moment _why_ Severus might want to be seen as awful to Mister Potter. Think about what we've discussed so far."

 

Hermione tilted her head in thought, "He often references Harry's father.  I'm guessing they didn't get along?"

 

"James Potter was a good man," Simon shrugged. "However, he and his friends tended to be quite the bullies in their youth and Severus was often times their prime target, and the reverse was true as well, I suppose.  No, there was little love lost between Severus Snape and James Potter. However, you need to stop looking at the obvious for your answers and look deeper.  His dislike for James Potter actually has little to do with his reactions to _Harry_ Potter."

 

The girl looked decidedly put out over being told she thinking obvious. He hid his amused smirk behind his cup at her pout and watched her expression change to one of thorough focus. He wouldn't give her the answer, she was bright enough to come to the proper answer on her own.

 

"Well," she began, idly spinning her cup in front of her as she put her thoughts together. "You had said that _He_ isn't really gone.  And I've done research and I know you're not the only Death Eater who managed to avoid being sentenced to Azkaban." Simon tried his best to stamp down the automatic wince at her blunt statement. "I know many of them have children who are at Hogwarts with us and are likely still quite sympathetic to their cause." She paused and glanced up to him to check where she was at with her current thought process.

 

"You would likely be correct," Simon nodded, encouraging her to continue.

 

"So it would probably be something to write home about if their Professor was friendly with the boy who ended their leader," Hermione said thoughtfully.  "But that doesn't explain why he's generally awful to everyone but Slytherin."

 

"Keep working at it Hermione," the wizard said with approval. "You're on the right track."

 

Hermione frowned in thought, studying him intently as though there was some tell that might give her the answers that she sought. "Well, he's made certain that he's not very well liked by the majority of the student population.  I'm sure a teenager's opinion of him doesn't really matter much to a grown wizard though."

 

"Think of it this way, Hermione," Simon said, deciding to give her a nudge in the right direction. "Professor McGonagall is a highly respected witch and known throughout our entire society for being exacting but unfailingly fair.  Would you have any sort of hesitation of Professor McGonagall approached Mister Potter and instructed him to come with her?  Would Mister Potter question her instruction?"

 

"Of course not," Hermione said, immediately.

 

"Would you or Mister Potter hesitate if the same instruction was given by your Professor Snape?" He asked.

 

The girl froze, offended at first at the implication that she would disrespect her Professor but then he watched as the pieces began to settle together in her mind.  "There's no way.  I mean, _I_ wouldn't hesitate but I've also come to learn there's _more_ than meets the eye.  But there's no way the majority of students would go anywhere with him without ensuring that at least a handful of others knew where they were going.  There's very little trust for fairness with Professor Snape."

 

"So given what we already know," Simon said. "That the Dark Lord is eventually returning, and he will. And that there's essentially a spy network among your classmates and their parents. What does that tell us? Put it all together."

 

"He's intentionally made himself hated," Hermione said, awe growing in her voice at the Potion Master's seemingly flawless skill at manipulation. "So that there should never be an opportunity that a student will trust him enough to go anywhere with him. So that there's virtually no chance of him being called to bring a student to _him_.  Especially Harry.  That's actually quite brilliant."

 

"Severus has always surpassed expectations in the realm of intelligence," Simon confirmed.

 

Hermione leaned forward, her forearms against the table in eagerness. "How do you intend to stop him? With just the two of you?"

 

"That is where our lessons come in, actually," the wizard said thoughtfully, pleased that he didn't have to guide her to the question. "Our overall success at putting a stop to the Dark Lord is going to rely quite heavily on _you_ , should you choose to help."

 

"On _me_?" She repeated, eyes wide. "But what can I do?"

 

"Severus has been forbidden to train Potter in anyway," Simon stated. "For some reason, the Headmaster seems to believe that your friend ought to be able to maintain his innocence as long as possible.  While, in an ideal world, that would be an admirable stance to take.  However we do not live in an ideal world.  And leaving your Mister Potter untrained is dangerous for us all."

 

Hermione tilted her head, taking in the information. "Harry lost the guise of innocence when he was forced to kill a professor in first year and a basilisk last year.  It's awfully naïve to believe otherwise, isn't it?"

 

"It is indeed," the wizard agreed. "Which is where you and our lessons come in.  This next year I suspect our lessons will take on a different direction.  We will continue with our regular purpose but I would like to start your instruction on things that you can passively pass onto Mister Potter. _You_ will train him for what is coming.  But you must do it in a way that he doesn't realize he is being prepared. Is that something you feel that you are capable of doing?"

 

He watched her thoughts and emotions play across her face and saw the moment her decision had been made in their favor. "The first thing of our lessons is imperative that _you_ learn if you wish to move forward.  It's not something I suspect Mister Potter will have a knack for if my conversations with Severus are anything to go on.  However, we can only continue these lessons if you take _this_ lesson very seriously."

 

Hermione sat up eagerly, trying to show that she was taking it very seriously.  She watched as he carefully produced two very large books from a bag on the floor that had gone unnoticed until that point and pushed them across the table to her.  Her hands grasped the books eagerly and studied the covers before glancing up to him with a curious expression asking the questions for her.

 

"You will begin by learning Occlumency and how to protect your mind," Simon said, firmly. "It is imperative that knowledge of these lessons stays unknown.  Only the three of us, you, Severus, and myself, will have knowledge of our lessons.  As heir to an Ancient and Noble house, it was something that I was taught from a very young age. Severus is a mind arts prodigy.  You must become proficient at this skill as well, in order to protect all of us."

 

Hermione nodded in understanding, "I'll start reading this evening."

 

"Good," Simon smiled.  With a considerably warmer tone, he looked at her seriously, "Be careful this year, Hermione.  I don’t know if you follow the _Prophet_ during your holidays from school but be careful and stay alert.  Keep yourself and your friends safe.  And try to keep me in the loop."

 

The pair lingered only a short while longer before bidding farewells and going their separate way.  Simon had a sinking feeling that this year would be as rough for the girl as the previous two had been but he'd truly hoped otherwise.  For her sake.

 

August quickly trickled away and Simon eyed the calendar with frustration as September 1st arrived.  After the letters from the previous year and Severus's account that that there would be Dementors following the train and stationed at the school that year, Simon was quite antsy to receive the letters from both Hermione and Severus that had both arrived and survived the first night of those demons.  Never was he more grateful that he had been spared the horror of Azkaban.

 

_Simon,_

_I hope you haven't worried yourself too much.  I've successfully made it to Hogwarts.  There was an incident on the train, I don't know if Professor Snape has told you about it yet or not.  The Dementor's stopped and boarded the train on the way to Hogwarts.  They effected Harry awfully. Simon, I think he heard his mum when she was murdered.  It's awful what those creatures are able to do.  I felt like I did as a little girl again.  Alone and unwanted.  And Azkaban has thousands of them?  However does anyone survive it?_

_I'm very grateful you managed to escape that fate._

_We were lucky that we happened to be sharing the compartment with the new DADA professor. His name is Remus Lupin.  Did you know him? What should I expect from him as a teacher? The last two years weren't very good so I'm hoping for positive news on this one.  I imagine you must have known him.  Professor Snape seems to be very aware of him and not in a positive way.  You went to school at the same time, right? Why does Professor Snape hate him so?_

_I hope you are well and I look forward to further correspondence.  Don't isolate yourself too entirely this year._

_Hermione_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_SA-_

_Lupin is back at the school and Black is still on the loose. This very well be a year for the books._

_Encourage our friend to take better care of her own health. She's apparently incapable of remembering to do so herself._

_-SS_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Hermione,_

_I will be sending more reading material for you to further our lessons.  However, I will not be sending them until I receive word that you are at least attempting to take better care of yourself.  Whatever have you gotten yourself into this year?"_

_Simon_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_Simon,_

_Thank you so very much for the books!  I very much look forward to reading them.  I'm sorry I couldn't send you something more exciting than chocolates but I hope you enjoyed them!_

_The boys are angry with me again.  Harry received a broomstick from an anonymous sender. I thought it was quite unsettling, what with Sirius Black on the loose and apparently after Harry. I told Professor McGonagall and she took the broom to test it for any tampering. They're so angry with me over it.  I was just trying to make sure that Harry stayed safe._

_Draco Malfoy insulted a Hippogryph and it attacked him.  It was just a scratch but I'm sure you're very aware of the ways of the Malfoy. So now I'm attempting to help Hagrid put together a defense for Buckbeak (the hippogryph). It's upsetting how little legislation is available in defense of creatures._

_I'm not supposed to tell anyone, so please, if we can keep this last bit between us, I'd greatly appreciate it.  This year is when we get to choose the elective courses that we want to take for OWLs. Well, you see, I kind of chose all of them. Headmaster Dumbledore was able to get special dispensation to allow me a time turner for the year in order to attend all the classes. Don't worry about me though, I'm being very careful with spending my time.  I've got a very detailed log of every time I use it._

_Yes, I know I probably ought to have told you much sooner and I am sorry for keeping you in the dark but I was attempting to hold to my instructions._

_I hope you've had a Happy Christmas!_

_Hermione_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_Hermione_

_A time turner?? You're quite serious aren't you?  I trust that you're at least using the damned device to give yourself a chance to sleep and eat properly?  If your answer isn't a resounding yes, I suggest you make it a yes starting immediately.  You must take care of yourself, Hermione.  Your health and wellbeing are far more important than any exam score could ever be._

_I am very sorry to hear that the boys are giving you difficulty again this year.  You're a far better friend than most to continue to stand by the pair despite the consistent mistreatment.  Keep your chin up, they'll come around._

_I've sent with this letter a couple books that I found among my library regarding creature rights and precedence.  Unfortunately, as you say, I'm all too aware of the 'Ways of the Malfoy', I would caution you to prepare yourself for the worst even as you hope for the best._

_Happy New Year,_

_Simon_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_SS-_

_Keep an eye, if you would.  The old man is far more meddlesome than you might care to imagine._

_-SA_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Simon remembered the end of term being a rather bittersweet feeling during his own time as a student in Hogwarts.  However, very few times did he recall feeling nearly as anxious as he did for the end of term, currently.  That little witch was going to be the death of him, he was quite sure of it.  Only that witch could tangle with a fully grown werewolf, free a fugitive, rescue a condemned hippogryph, all under the very large and observant nose of the much feared Hogwart's Potion's Master and treat it like just another obstacle in the way of perfect exam scores. 

 

It had been some time since he had witnessed Severus quite that furious as well, for that matter.  Simon was sure that he would not be the one to inform his friend of the little witch's time turner usage.  He was not intending to put himself on the receiving end of that rage fueled tantrum, friend or no.

 

Simon leaned back into his chair from behind his desk, rubbing his hands tiredly over his face and into his hair.  For being almost entirely isolated, his social interactions were so very exhausting.  A quick glance at the clock told him that the Express should be reaching London right about then.  The most recent letter from Hermione was spread across his desk, the thorough detailing of her most recent escapades written precisely on a very long sheet of parchment. Generally, they attempted some sense of brevity in their correspondence while she was in school both out of respect for her study schedules and to limit anyone around her from becoming too nosy.

 

So far, even Potter and Weasley hadn't found her regular letters to be suspect.

 

Severus had at least indicated that she had made suitable progress on her Occulemency lessons. That was encouraging.

 

Simon jumped when he heard a door slamming down the hall and quickly rolled up the letter and placed it securely into one of the desk drawers.  Best not to let the surly Professor know of her involvement in his current misery.

 

The wizard in question blew through the doors of Simon's study and lowered himself into a chair on the opposite side of the desk with an air of simmering anger. Simon tried to smother a smirk but the scowl on the Potions Master's expression told him that he hadn't quite succeeded.  "Alright there, Severus?"

 

"Potter and Miss Granger insist that Black is innocent," Severus stated, his tone surprisingly calm considering the energy that was flowing from his person.

 

"We had questioned that ourselves over the years."

 

"If they are telling the truth than that means Pettigrew is both alive and on the loose."

 

Simon tried to ignore the feeling of dread that traced his spine, "And he's clearly been shunned by his school friends, unsurprisingly."

 

"The man is as predictable as he is cowardly," Severus confirmed.

 

"If our suspicions are correct," Simon said slowly.

 

"Then we need to pick up the pace Miss Granger's, and so Mister Potter's, training," Severus confirmed.

 

Simon nodded in silent agreement. "What has the old man had to say?"

 

Severus snorted derisively, "I'm quite certain that any theories he has will be kept clear of me. However, he believes that Black is innocent of betraying the Potters. He never saw any indication that Pettigrew is still alive, regardless of what the students claim.  He's not senile not matter how well he has learned to play the part."

 

"Has Lucius attempted to reach out to you?" Simon asked.

 

"I speak with him semi regularly," Severus confirmed. "Usually regarding Draco's antics.  He's been very mum about anything regarding the Dark Lord following the instance with Miss Weasley last year."

 

The two wizards fell into a contemplative silence.  Neither wanting to think further on the reality of the near future but neither seemingly able to think of anything else.  Simon hesitantly pushed his shirt sleeve up past his elbow and studied the glaring Mark closely. It had yet to change from the faded horror that it had been for the last twelve years but he would certainly be keeping a close eye on it in the coming months.

 

"What are your plans for Miss Granger," Severus asked suddenly.

 

"Get a feel for how comfortable she has become with Occulemency, for start," Simon said, thoughtfully.  "Put a bug in her ear to talk with Pomfrey about learning some basic healing.  Test what Lupin did for them with Defense and attempt to bring her up to par if she isn't.  Since the beginning of the lessons, I've attempted to get her to think objectively and approach her questions from as many possible aspects.  She's very book oriented, despite what I've told her about Magic and Intention.  Perhaps that's something I'll attempt to break her of."

 

"Just don't break her too badly," Severus commented. "Many of my college's still expect book reasoning rather than logical reasoning, after all."

 

"She's far smarter than you give her credit for, Severus," Simon insisted. "Young and untried, perhaps but she's not unintelligent."

 

"No, she's not.  However, she fails to utilize her intelligence.  That is where she will always limit herself if she cannot break herself from the habit," the dark wizard argued.

 

"Very well then, how would you suggest I go about teaching her to use her intelligence?"

 

"These are _your_ lessons," Severus said snidely. "Far be it from me to tell another how to instruct."

 

Simon snorted inelegantly, "Of course not."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The summer passed fairly uneventfully with frequent visits from Severus and letters to and from Hermione.  He had even managed a handful of meetings with the young witch at the same small shop that they had originally chosen to meet at the previous summer.  So far all of their lessons were theoretical and discussion based.  He had yet to breach the topic of moving forward with some more practical lessons.  What location to use for the practical lessons was his largest obstacle.  Obviously, being the Lord of Avery Hall such a thing should be obvious however, there was something decidedly uncertain about inviting a teenage witch unaccompanied to his home, no matter how appropriate the intentions. It was unlikely that he would be able to convince Severus to play Chaperone. 

 

He knew the little witch would be as affronted over his caution as the other proud muggleborn he once knew would have been.  Simon knew the power of reputation in the Wizarding World, however, whether he liked it or not.  While it was true that their lessons were meant to be kept in secret anyway, it didn't assuage his guilty feeling at all that he would be destroying the girl's strong reputation should their meetings come into the public awareness.

 

With his mind spinning at the various implications of whatever he decided to do, Simon began to draft the newest in their series of letters.  He resolved to lay the entire of the scenario out for her.  She was a smart girl and was coming a long wonderfully at understanding nuances and intricacies of situations.  Hopefully, she would have the ability to look at the situation objectively and they could come to a suitable agreement that would cover all of their bases.

 

It was early August, about two weeks prior to the much anticipated Quidditch World Cup, when Simon found himself in the company of someone other than Severus or Hermione.  He was composing yet another letter to Hermione, complete with detailed lesson plans for the duration of the summer when Linky, one of his family elves, popped into his study to announce a new arrival.  Simon frowned but gave permission for the elf to escort their unexpected guest to the study. Unannounced visitors were rarely something to look forward to. As such, Simon carefully put away the letter and stowed his wand out of sight but within easy reach.

 

Moments later the door to his study opened and Simon warily watched as Lucius Malfoy approached the desk.  It was decidedly uncomfortable, and if he were honest quite infuriating, to watch the unwelcome wizard waltz into his study with the air of distain. "Lucius, I can't say I was expecting company this afternoon."

 

The blonde wizard sat himself into one of the receiving chairs and carefully arranged himself just so before he stretched the silence just long enough to toe the line of rudeness. "I apologize for showing up unannounced," he said, not sounding the least bit sorry. "How have you been fairing old friend? It's been a number of years, hasn't it?"

 

"Nearly thirteen, actually," Simon said, shorty.

 

"Has it been, truly?" Lucius said in a mocking tone. "Ah yes, the last we spoke was just before we were carted off to the Ministry's holding cells.  You all but disappeared afterwards.  One would think you'd gone into hiding."

 

"Not as much," Simon shrugged. "There's hardly anyone I cared to continue association with."

 

Lucius nodded in mock understanding before continuing snidely, "I would suspect that grief and bloodied hands would cripple a lesser man."

 

Simon allowed his eyes to narrow slightly at the obvious insult but refused to rise to the baiting, "Alright, Lucius, you've played your games.  Neither of us care enough for the other's presence for this to be a simple social call. Why are you here?"

 

"There's to be a gathering the night of the World Cup," Lucius said casually as though he were talking about an actual gathering and not the sort that both men knew he was _actually_ referencing.  "Your presence is formally _requested_."

 

"I'm afraid that I must decline, I'm already expected elsewhere. Commitments, I'm sure you understand."

 

"Choose your allegiances wisely, Avery.  Surely you've heard the whispers?  Surely you've noticed certain developments."

 

"None of which improves my opinion of you, Lucius. Your threats lost their potency many years ago," Simon dismissed. "If that is all, I'll have one of the elves see you out."

 

"Very well, I would suggest you consider your option and choose correctly," the blonde wizard warned. "He forgave your weaknesses once, I doubt He would be quite so forgiving a second time. I'll see myself out."

 

Simon watched the other wizard exit with narrowed eyes. "Linky, please make sure that our guest doesn't take any detours on his way out."  Once the elf had left to follow Lucius's exit, Simon pulled a piece of parchment and jotted an abbreviated description of the blonde's visit and sent it off to Severus. If he was in regular contact with the Malfoy's, he probably already knew of this _gathering_ but it didn't hurt to warn the man just in case.

 

Once that note was enroute to the surly wizard, Simon set to finishing the letter to Hermione though he wrapped up the letter with a date and time for a meeting the following day.  It was her nature to be in the middle of trouble so it was inevitable that she would somehow be caught up in whatever Malfoy had planned for the World Cup.  Simon would be damned if he said nothing and allowed her to be sent unprepared.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

"You think it's beginning again," Hermione said, tone curious.

 

"I do," Simon confirmed. "Severus and I suspected it following what you've described at the end of your last year. Our marks are gradually darkening and there's very few explanations as to what would cause such a thing."

 

"Do you know who's likely to be involved?"

 

"Don't you start attempting to become a vigilante," Simon warned. "You, Potter and Weasley do a fine job of getting yourself in the middle of chaos without even trying. I shudder to think what sort of nightmares you would find if you actually went looking for it."

 

"So what good is warning me to be on my toes if there's absolutely nothing I can do about it?" Hermione frowned in frustration.

 

"Because warning you can be the difference between being caught unaware and being harmed and being able to get to safety," he said, firmly. "While intelligent, you are a fourteen year old witch.  You are not equipped to deal with the depravity that these individuals are, not only capable of, but would happily utilize against a proud muggleborn such as yourself.  There's no shame in keeping yourself safe."

 

"I'm not a coward," the girl scowled.

 

"It is not cowardice to know and respect your own limitations, Hermione," Simon scolded. "It is foolish and irresponsible to disregard your limitations.  That is what gets you and those around you hurt, if not killed.  There's no true honor in pride."

 

"So you would have me just run away and leave them to their depravity?  Even knowing they're likely harming _someone_?"

 

"Yes, I would," Simon confirmed. "Because not only will the vast majority of our Ministry and the International teams' security forces be at the event and are trained to handle such events but also because I would rather you survive whatever madness is planned."

 

"Your _plan_ ," Hermione scoffed. "Of course, you need me to see your plan through. Apologies for putting your plans in jeopardy, to hell with my conscience."

 

"In part, yes.  I have dreamt of truly being free for longer than you've been alive.  So yes, this whole bit running as planned is crucial," Simon said, tone seriously. "But my concern is also for you in your own right.  You are a brilliant witch, Hermione, and I very much look forward to you becoming the woman you've got all the potential to become.  I'll be damned if I sit back and watch you throw it away recklessly because of a sense of misplaced pride.  You've got the fortitude of all four Hogwart's houses.  I would see you use your cunning and self-preservation just a little bit more, if you would."

 

Hermione eyed him speculatively, as though attempting to read how much truth was in his words.  "I won't leave Harry to do it on his own."

 

"And I'd not ask you to.  I would only ask that when you can get out of a situation, you get out of it.  If possible, avoid direct altercations until we can train a bit more.  These annual letters that you're in grave danger is enough to drive me to an early grave," Simon half-joked.

 

"If I'm not allowed to throw potential away on misplaced pride than _you're_ not allowed to throw _your_ potential away on misplaced worry," she teased.

 

"My dear girl, where you're concerned it's hardly misplaced," he grinned. "You and your mates have quite the knack for attracting trouble."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quidditch World Cup and an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we all know the 4th year is when everything starts to turn, therefore it's also where our story will start to get a little bit more involved. It will also be predominantly Simon centric for the next several chapters with some bits and bobs tied in. I'm not going to run you through every little nuance that Hermione goes through in school because, let's face it, we've all already read that. Likely multiple times. I hadn't originally intended on going year-by-year but because I can't really tie the story together without hitting the obviously significant milestones, I'm aiming to hit those milestones from a prospective that we all don't already know. Sound fair? I know I touched on it in the previous chapter but I wanted to bring it up again here as well. 
> 
> Thank you to the lovely readers who have reviewed. It's always greatly appreciated. I hope to read plenty more going forward.
> 
> Without further ado, Chapter 5! 
> 
> ABD

 

Despite his reluctance, Simon allowed himself to be convinced to have the young witch as a guest at Avery Hall on four separate occasions following their meeting in the two weeks leading up to the World Cup.  He found that his concern for her reputation and propriety rather paled in light of the uncertain threat that she would inevitably find herself facing sooner than originally anticipated.  As long as they were very careful, Simon had managed to convince himself that his family elves were suitable chaperones considering the circumstances.

 

The day of the Quidditch World Cup found Simon and Severus sitting across from one another in the library of Avery Hall.  The radio was on and tuned into the station that was covering the match and each of the wizards were rooted to their chairs.  Books lay open on their laps giving the pretense that neither much cared for the content streaming from the small device.  And currently, neither did quite frankly.  It was only the knowledge that _something_ was intended to happen that kept the pair rooted to their seats.

 

Hours passed with the pair scarcely moving save to eat, refill their glasses or turn the pages of their books. 

 

"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH BUT IRELAND WINS!" blasted through the room and Simon allowed a small smirk of amusement at the obvious disbelief at the final score.  While he'd never been overly invested in the game, Simon had developed a mild appreciation for the game. It was something else to help keep his mind occupied.

 

As time drew on and the celebratory interviews with the teams began to repeat themselves, Simon began to wonder if Lucius had been mistaken or simply testing the waters.  The sun had set some time ago and both wizards found themselves further into the whiskey than they either had planned for.

 

Simon instructed Linky to prepare a room for the Potions Master, there was little sense in sending the man on his way at this hour and in his current state.  He rose from his chair to return the books to their homes and was approaching the radio when a panicked announcement cried out across the air.

 

"…and there are an unknown number of attackers.  They appear to have the Muggles suspended in the air.  It is pure panic here at the World Cup ladies and gentlewizards. And…" there was a moment of brokenness where the chaos behind the reporter could clearly be heard. "Yes, it's the Dark Mark!  Ladies and Gentlewizards, for the first time in thirteen years the Dark Mark has been cast and it is over the Quidditch World Cup! I will endeavor to speak with Ministry Officials as soon as they've investigated and will keep you informed."

 

Severus and Simon froze, each automatically covering their left arms with their opposite hands.  Forgetting his intention to turn off the radio, Simon diverted to the whiskey decanter and promptly refilled both glasses.  This sort of thing called for more alcohol, after all.

 

"Well, now we know the sort of _gathering_ Lucius was attempting to recruit you for," Severus said, taking a long draw from the freshly filled glass.

 

Simon hummed in agreement, feeling a rush of anxiety flash through him, settling into his chest. He was pacing the length of the floor from the still panicked radio to the fireplace, tapping a finger irritably against the glass in his hand. "Perhaps I should have gone."

 

"And what would that have accomplished?" Severus sighed.  "It's no secret that you've always loathed those sort of events. They would have undoubtedly been suspicious had you agreed."

 

"Possibly," Simon agreed.  "However, I'd have been on site and potentially been able to do some discrete damage control."

 

"I'm sure that your eagerness has nothing to do with a certain Gryffindor witch," the dark wizard snorted.

 

Simon felt himself warm but refused to respond to the obvious jab, "I suppose that Lucius approached me at all after these years should be encouraging. There's nothing that he could possibly find unusually suspicious."

 

"Why would he," Severus questioned. "It's not as though we've done anything to garner anyone's attention. We should be preparing for things like this to become more frequent, I think. There's been a lot of excitement circulating about this upcoming term that will rival the World Cup."

 

"What sort of event," Simon asked, eyes narrowing.

 

"Rumor has it that the Triwizard Tournament is returning to Hogwarts."

 

"The Triwiz--Are they _mad_?"

 

"It would seem that way," Severus snorted. "And after tonight's events, I would imagine it to be a rather tempting target."

 

"But surely they'll have solid security following this," Simon sighed. "With any luck it would mean that Potter and therefore Hermione might have a relatively safe year this go.  No Stone or Basilisk or Azkaban escapees."

 

"One can hope," the Potions Master shrugged. "I'll not hold my breath, however. Potter has a way of landing himself in trouble without even trying and dragging his friends along for the ride."

 

Simon drained his glass and his friend followed suit.  "Well, it's unlikely we'll hear any more news this late.  Might as well call it a night.  The next few days may or may not be demanding depending on whether Lucius chooses to make another visit."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Simon,_

_I just wanted to let you know that I am safe.  You've probably already heard about what happened last night after the World Cup.  Forgive me for asking but I feel like I need to see the confirmation.  You weren't there, were you?  I really don't believe that you were and I know you always tell me not to be afraid to ask what's on my mind.  I do hope that you don't take offense. It was quite a frightening experience._

_We were all already asleep when everything happened.  Mister Weasley and the older Weasley boys went to help while sending the rest of us to hide in the woods. Draco Malfoy suggested that I would likely end up in the sky like the poor Roberts family. Told the boys to keep me hidden so the Death Eater's didn't come after me for being a Mudblood.  At this point, I think Harry and Ron take more offense to the term than I do. Especially from Malfoy.  Anyway, we left Malfoy before the boys could get into an altercation but that's when we heard a really creepy voice and saw the Dark Mark.  It was terrifying, but I'm actually quite grateful that you've shown me your Mark previously, it saved me from being quite a bit more intimidated by the sight.  Mister Diggory tried to accuse me and then Harry of casting the Mark.  Harry was accused because somehow Mister Crouch's house elf ended up with Harry's wand.  The poor elf was accused of using his wand to cast it.  How utterly ridiculous, Simon!  It was a human man's voice that we heard not a squeaky little elf's voice. _

_Simon, what do you know about house elves?  Mister Crouch dismissed the little elf and she was such a distraught mess over it!  Ron insists that elves enjoy being treated the way that they are and Harry…well Harry avoids being in the middle of anything that Ron and I might disagree on.  But it's awful how the creatures are treated!  It amounts to slavery and they've been subjected for so long that they clearly don't know any better.  Do you have elves, Simon?  I know you come from an Old Family, are House Elves truly commonplace?  Please tell me that you treat your elves better than Crouch or Malfoy?_

_Harry says that his scar is hurting again. He told Ron and me about some very disturbing dreams he's had.  Pettigrew and Him talking about killing someone.  He insists that Professor Trelawney made an actual prophecy at the end of last term.  Did I tell you about that? I probably forgot didn't I?  It happened before the whole incident with Sirius in the Shrieking Shack.  That day of, actually, I think. I'll write it out at the end of this letter, no sense cluttering the middle of the letter with it.  I can't say I put as much stock in Divination but I **am** quite concerned with his scar hurting again, considering the precedence. _

_On a lesser note, Mister Weasley and Mister Diggory eluded to some big announcement to be made this upcoming year.  Some sort of surprise. I don't suppose you have any insights as to what to expect?  You know how little I care for surprises, they rarely end up in my favor._

_I'm at the Weasley's for the last stretch of the summer Holiday so there's very little chance that I will have the opportunity to come visit with you again prior to the start of term.  Letters are always welcome, however._

_Hermione_

_\---It will happen tonight. The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight…the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was.  Tonight before midnight the servant will set out to rejoin his master---**_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Hermione,_

_First and foremost, I am very glad to hear that you are safe and unharmed.  Second, to put your mind at ease, no I was not a part of the mess you witnessed.  I was approached, however.  I fear there will be a time in our near future when my attendance won't me merely requested but we've not reached that time as of yet._

_Barty Crouch's elf was accused of casting the Mark? How very interesting. Highly unlikely, but interesting. I may have to do some digging, though I truly doubt I'll find much._

_Mister Potter's scar and dreams are quite concerning, as is the prophecy.  I do wish you had passed that along previously.  In time I will explain the significance but whether or not you care for Divination, it and prophecies play a very significant role in what we are up against. Do not dismiss something as insignificant just because it is distasteful.  Important information can be found in some of the least likely places.  I would like you to take time to dissect that prophecy.  Significant or not, I would like you to see how it might apply to our current situation.  I can see it rather glaringly, I should expect you to be able to see it as well with a clearer mind._

_There are six elves that call Avery Hall their home and they are treated well. Before you go half-cocked on some vigilante spree, Hermione, I expect you to stop and think. Think and research.  Treat this as another of our lessons if you so choose. I've included a couple books regarding Elf Lore and I would be most happy to arrange a meeting for you with the Avery elves to speak frankly with them, if you so choose.  You've got a caring heart, Hermione and that is not something to be ashamed of.  However, I do expect you to act in accordance with everything that you've learned and approach every situation from every possible angle, this one included._

_Dear girl, this letter has become quite a bit more stringent than I'd ever intended it to be but every word of it is important for you to remember.  You are an intelligent young woman and have a mind meant for retaining information.  You must simply remember to keep your mind open to receiving the information from sources you might think irrelevant.  There's very, very little information in this world that is truly irrelevant._

_Best wishes for your upcoming year, Hermione.  I cannot ruin the surprise, unfortunately.  You'll simply have to practice patience and find out alongside your classmates._

_Simon_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

"Severus," Simon stated, the man in question popped his head up from his reading and stared expectantly, "were you aware of Sybill Trelawney presenting another prophecy to Mister Potter?"

 

The dark wizard was on his feet and peering over Simon's shoulder in an instant where Hermione's letter was passed to him to review.  Severus' dark eyes scanned the page lingering on the information about the dream and scar before dropping to the bottom of the page to the written prophecy, "I was not.  It appears this one is likely already active, as well."

 

"I'd noticed that too," Simon nodded.  "She mentioned that Mister Potter has had dreams about Pettigrew and the Dark Lord."

 

The men exchanged uncomfortable glances, interrupted by Linky's sudden presence that their elbows, "Lord Malfoy be's arriving unexpected, Master. Should Linky be bringing him to you?"

 

Another brief glance was exchanged before Simon shook his head, "No, Linky, escort Mister Malfoy to my study, I shall meet him there.  Make no comment at Severus's presence, please."

 

The elf popped out to herd the unwelcome visitor and Simon got to his feet, "I'll return once this…whatever this is…is concluded."  The other wizard was already lost in this thoughts regarding the prophecy when Simon apparated from the library to his study.  He had just settled himself behind his ornate desk and put up a convincing display of being suitably busy when a firm rap at the door and Linky's squeaky voice announced his visitor.

 

"Lucius, what a surprise," Simon drawled idly. "Two unexpected drop ins in less than a month.  I dare say I might feel flattered were it anyone else.  From a Malfoy though, it's just poor manners."

 

The pale wizard sneered, lowering himself into one of the receiving chairs opposite the desk. "I don't believe in wasting my efforts on those who don't matter."

 

"And yet it's in my study we sit," Simon smirked. "Clearly I matter something.  So tell me, Lucius, why are you here?"

 

"You've seen the news?" Lucius said, hedging while clearly trying his damnedest not to be obvious.

 

"I have," Simon confirmed. "I saw your little circus show.  Can't say I'm upset to have missed it.  The Mark, Lucius?  Utilizing our Lord's sign rather loosely, aren't you?"

 

" _We_ didn't set the Mark, Avery," Lucius sneered. "I know of every single one of those who marched that night.  I've verified every one of them and not a single one cast the Mark."

 

Simon narrowed his eyes and studied the other wizard.  "Then who did?"

 

"I suppose your guess would be as good as anyone," Lucius shrugged, appearing uncaring despite it being fairly obvious the opposite was true.

 

"Who, aside from myself, declined your offer?" Simon queried.

 

Lucius waved off the question impatiently.  "They are suggesting that Barty Crouch's _elf_ cast the Mark."

 

"An elf?" Simon blinked, a carefully surprised expression painted on his face. "However would an _elf_ be able to cast it?  It requires a wand, for starters."

 

"Yes, well, the elf was discovered with a wand.  Harry Potter's wand at that."

 

"Well, I'll be," Simon said, thoughtfully. "Still though, even if an elf were capable of such a spell, I find it unlikely that Bartimus Crouch's elf would have been taught such a thing."

 

"You recall his son being among our brethren in Azkaban," Lucius reminded.

 

"I'm aware.  The boy was demented enough to match dear Bellatrix in bloodlust," Simon nodded. "However, despite my isolation I've kept well abreast of the news.  Barty Crouch Junior died in Azkaban."

 

"Indeed," Lucius nodded, thoughtfully.  "It is odd that the boy's elf be the one accused of stealing a wand and using it to cast the Mark."

 

"It is quite an interesting circle of events," Simon confirmed.

 

"And _your_ Mark, Avery?" Lucius questioned vaguely.

 

"Has been gradually darkening, yes."

 

The men were interrupted by Linky reappearing with a tea service.  The elf placed it carefully on the desk before checking with Simon and disappearing with a soft 'crack'.  Simon carefully put the two cups of tea together, passing Lucius his own to doctor how he saw fit before adding a dollop of honey in his own.

 

"Am I to be your sounding board for the occasion, then?" he queried, tone surprisingly pleasant even to his own ears.

 

"I've never much cared for you, Avery," Lucius said pointedly. "However, you've earned a reputation for being tenacious when presented with a mystery and your isolation gives you an open schedule to dig into this…problem."

 

"Ah, your investigator then," Simon smirked.  "You do remember that I don't work for you, correct?  It's the half-troll duo you're looking for, I believe."

 

Lucius carefully finished his tea before setting the empty cup onto the tray and getting to his feet, "Oh, I'm not looking to _hire_ you, Avery.  Simply presenting you with a puzzle that your very predicable mind simply cannot resist solving.  Good day, to you."

 

Simon narrowed his eyes as the blond wizard swept dramatically from the office, "Linky, please ensure our guest takes no detours on his way out."

 

A moment later, the wizard found himself back the library to find his friend scribbling furiously on a sheet of parchment.  His appearance didn't disturb the dour wizard in the least so Simon thought it was likely best to leave him to whatever it was he was working on, he chose to change tracks for his own afternoon and had brought the Estate ledgers with him from his study to put some time into reviewing. 

 

The majority of the afternoon passed in relative silence.  It wasn't until around three when Severus quickly rose and collected the materials he had been working on.  "I must return to the school this evening, I'll be leaving much of this here.  It is too risky to take with me."

 

Simon nodded in understanding and watched the other wizard stow his work in a drawer in the top left corner of the cabinet adjacent to the door that he had allotted for the man's use. He rose from his seat and banished the ledgers back to the Study.  "I'll see you out then."

 

"What did Lucius want?" Severus asked, curiously.

 

"To sick my tenacity on figuring out who actually cast the Mark," Simon smirked.

 

Severus rolled his eyes at the blond wizard's arrogance but shrugged, "It's not as though we weren't already investigating."

 

"He doesn't seem to know that," the Avery wizard chuckled as they approached the receiving room and the Floo.  "Take care, friend. Keep me updated on anything interesting."

 

"But you've got a whole mystery to keep you entertained," the dark wizard snarked.

 

"Of course," Simon grinned. "But it gets quiet around here, the more to keep my tenacious mind occupied the less likely I am to show up on Hogsmeade weekends to pester a cranky Potions Master for company."

 

Simon laughed as Severus cringed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Simon,_

_Do you know anything about a former Auror named Mad-Eye Moody?  I remember from that article we discussed previously that he was your arresting officer back then, I imagine that you all knew more than a little about those you would come in direct conflict with.  Is there anything you can tell me about him?  He's been brought on as the newest DADA instructor.  Something isn't sitting right, Simon and I can't pinpoint what it is.  By all accounts, I should be quite grateful to have an Auror teaching.  But…I don't know.  I really don't know. But I'll keep an eye open and see what I can sort._

_They've announced that they're bringing back the Triwizard Tournament.  Are they truly mad?  Simon, I've read about these tournaments.  Students have actually died competing!  I'm relieved, at least, that they had the forethought to restrict it to of-age students.  I shudder to think what would happen if some reckless student who'd hardly scraped OWLs attempted to enter.  I must say, I'm quite excited to meet the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students.  It will be so very interesting to brush up on my French and possibly learn new cultural differences._

_I did take your scoldings to heart, Simon.  I've begun to read what you've given me on Elf Lore and will reread through to ensure I understand and I intend to do some research on creature law in the coming weeks as well.  I'm very displeased with the concept of slave labor. There's no being alive that deserves to be treated as though they are property that they are forced to serve a master whether they choose to or not.  However, I'll hold my tongue on House Elves until I've read and perhaps over break I might meet with your elves.  To attempt to understand._

_As for the prophecy.  I was very mistaken to not pass that along to you.  I honestly dismissed it automatically and with everything else that went on at the end of last term, I'd quite forgotten about it until Harry mentioned it alongside of his scar.  I will spend some time over the next few weeks doing as instructed and attempt to view the whole situation from a removed perspective._

_Have you learned anything of interest?  About the scar or the events of the World Cup?  I'm very curious to learn what you have come up with. Thankfully, with the age limit in place, I'm very much hoping for some much needed peace this year.  No potentially deadly situations save Professor Snape's temper._

_I hope you are well and that the return to term isn't treating you too terribly lonely._

_Hermione_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Simon scrubbed his face tiredly.  Auror Moody was at Hogwarts.  He wasn't quite sure what to make of it.  On one hand, Moody was a solid Auror.  At his prime he was probably the best the force had ever trained.  To have him on the staff when something as dangerous as the Triwizard Tournament was being held was a sure fire way to boost confidence following the security disaster of the World Cup.

 

But Moody was no longer at his prime.  The old wizard had tangled with enough Death Eaters and the bottom dregs of society for enough years to be paranoid of his own shadow.  That sort of paranoia in a school full of children could be a potentially deadly combination.  Especially when some of those children were very well known for their rather juvenile pranks and practical jokes.  Could Moody be trusted to act reasonably when faced with a startling but otherwise harmless joke?

 

Simon wasn't certain.  The old wizard could be a boon or a liability.  There was really no telling until push came to shove.

 

He glanced down at the second, though much briefer, letter next to the one from the young witch.

 

_SA--_

_Moody has come out of retirement.  If he could keep that nauseating eyeball to himself everyone would be much better off.  I don't believe he's forgiven me for getting cleared thirteen years ago._

_\--SS_

 

No, Allistar Moody always had a very long memory and could hold a grudge as tightly as the Weasley/Malfoy feud. Considering that the man had been the Auror in charge of detaining both himself and Severus as well as some of their more notorious brethren, it was highly unlikely that he had forgiven or forgotten.

 

Perhaps, Simon thought, it was time to purchase a new owl.  His owl wasn't known to many, granted.  However, to continue conversing with Hermione on a regular basis with Moody snooping around the castle, it might be prudent.  It could also draw attention to their correspondence, however.  If her peers had grown used to seeing the same owl then there was little interest.  But a new, unfamiliar owl might draw unnecessary attention.  Perhaps it would serve purposes, for now at least, to warn the girl to be aware of her surroundings when reading or responding. 

 

She ought to be doing that anyway, truth be told.  He found himself a little bit disappointed thinking that there was a possibility she hadn't thought to be secure in their communications. 

 

Simon shook his head.  She was a smart girl.  It was very likely that he was overthinking.  It seemed that Moody's presence had the desired effect.  Simon wasn't even _technically_ doing anything wrong and he was nervous.

 

"Master---" Linky blinked in surprise as his Master was suddenly no longer seated in his chair but sprawled on the floor in front of him following the most curious squawking sound that Linky wasn't quite sure either being could repeat should they be asked.  The elf peered curiously into his Simon's face to attempt to ensure that the wizard was well. "Linky did not mean to frighten Master."

 

"No, no Linky, you're fine," Simon said, carefully pushing himself into a seated position.  He was privately grateful that he was otherwise alone in the study.  Human witnesses to such an event didn't bare imagining.  "I've simply been on edge.  Nothing to worry about."

 

The elf waved his hand and the chair righted itself in front of the desk and Simon settled himself back into it and glanced expectantly.  "Young Master Darian is calling for a visit, Master.  Shall I bring him to you?"

 

Simon blinked. He'd not heard from Darian in a number of years.  It would seem that the ranks that had avoided Azkaban were getting rather restless.  "Yes, see him in please."

 

As the elf popped away to retrieve the visitor, Simon carefully poured two generous glasses of whiskey, placing one in front of himself and one opposite.  He couldn't deny that he was already getting awfully tired of unexpected guests and he had a rather sinking feeling it was only beginning.

 

"Simon, mate!  I'd thought you'd finally gone and drowned your sorry arse!" the boisterous wizard boomed when Linky allowed him entry.  "I had to find out from dear old Lucius that you just became a shut in."

 

Simon smiled tightly and rose to his feet to politely shake hands with his childhood playmate. "Indeed.  The solitude is peaceful, believe it or not."

 

"Pish," Darian swatted away the statement like one would swat a fly. "You miss a bit of fun few weeks back relishing in your _solitude_.  Lucius was quite miffed that you snubbed him, mate."

 

"Lucius Malfoy's hurt feelings are hardly my concerns," Simon shrugged.  "I had prior commitment with my library and a very well-aged bottle of whiskey."

 

Darian laughed loudly.  Dear _Merlin_ , Simon had forgotten how obnoxiously loud the other wizard was. 

 

"What do I owe this visit to, Darian?"  Simon asked once the laughter had begun to quiet.

 

"Can't a bloke drop in on an old friend?" the wizard asked, albeit a bit redundantly but in a mock-wounded tone.

 

"Well of course, except we've not been much of friends since we were out of nappies, if I recall," Simon replied bluntly.  He saw little point in pandering to the feelings of someone he didn't quite care for.  He never claimed to be a politician.

 

Darian grinned and lifted the pre-poured whiskey and raised it in salute, "Perhaps not _besties_ or anything.  You preferred halfies and muddies. But been more than passing acquaintances for longer than not."

 

Simon forced his expression to remain, "Well I wouldn't pluralize either description.  Severus has generally been the only associate of mine to be half."

 

"He proved himself, in the end I suppose," Darian said thoughtfully. "Our Lord was quite fond of the man. Surly bastard though isn't he?"

 

"Never more or less than exactly himself, to be sure," Simon agreed.  "I ask again, though Darian, what brings you here?"

 

The other wizard leaned back into his seat and sipped the whiskey appreciatively.  "There's a handful of us going for drinks.  Chat about old times.  You know how it goes.  You ought to come."

 

"You came all this way to invite me to a reunion," Simon repeated dryly. "I do hate to tell you that you've wasted your time.  I'm not interested in going anywhere for drinks, Darian."

 

"How are you going to justify continuously turning all of us away when the Dark Lord returns?" Darian questioned.

 

"That it is not my brethren that I serve.  Nor am I bound to their bidding in any way."

 

"I'll tell you what," Darian said, clearly changing his approach, the man leaned forward to place his empty glass back on the desk and braced his elbows on his knees staring seriously.  "Come with us for drinks, tonight and I'll limit my unannounced visits to every so often.  Otherwise, you might just have to deal with seeing my pretty face on a regular basis until you finally agree to come along."

 

Simon narrowed his eyes and chuckled, "You're threatening me with your presence.  Yet you know I'm perfectly capable of sealing you out of Avery Hall."

 

"You are, of course, capable of blocking anyone from your home," Darian agreed.  "However, it would be much less taxing to simply come for drinks."

 

"Why are you so desperate to get me to go?" Simon asked shrewdly.

 

"Because something is coming," the other wizard stated.  "And we all know it.  I would much rather we be ahead of it than behind it and you can't do that sitting in your self-imposed gilded cage."

 

"You've hardly cared in the last thirteen years, Darian, _why now_?"

 

The man grinned, "Because, mate, you had thirteen years to wallow.  Now it's time for you to actually regain your damn pride and start acting like an Avery."

 

"Yet you forget that the Avery's have always prided ourselves on _not_ being known for any particular thing."

 

"And you'll be the Avery to change that, won't you?"

 

Simon leaned back in his seat, studying the other wizard intently.  Internally, he groaned, knowing he would have to go.  There was no way he could put all the weight of this thing on Severus and Hermione alone.  No, he had been hiding and pushing off the responsibility for plenty long enough.  He frowned slightly but then nodded his agreement to the other wizard who grinned.

 

"Knew you'd see it my way, mate."

 

"Where will we be meeting and when?"

 

"We'll be going now and I'll take you," Darian said firmly.  "Can't let you try to worm your way out, now can I?"

 

Simon sighed but agreed.  "Very well, Linky will escort you back to the receiving room.  I'll meet you there once I've gotten myself presentable."

 

The other wizard looked as though he wanted to argue but the elf appeared at his side and was already ushering him out of the study.

 

Another sigh escaped the wizard and he quickly grabbed a bit of parchment and jotted a quick letter

 

_SS---_

_Another unexpected visitor this evening.  Darian.  Cornered into drinks 'for old times'.  I'll keep you posted._

_\--SA_

 

He quickly set the letter off with his owl and apparated up to his rooms to prepare for what would inevitably be a very tedious evening.  He mentally tallied the names of those that he thought would likely be present. Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle would no doubt be in attendance.  The Carrows were likely, Simon cringed. Nott would likely be there as well.  He gave himself ten minutes to be clean and dressed and then, after a deep, calming breathe Simon apparated to the receiving room where his guest was clearly growing impatient.

 

"I thought you were trying to back out already," Darian smirked.  Darian clasped Simon at the back of the neck and led the shorter wizard through the Floo, not allowing him to overhear their destination.  The secrecy was making Simon rather nervous.

/

"Well, well, well look what the cat dragged in,"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon meets with the Old Crowd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again lovely readers!
> 
> So pace of the story is slowing down rather dramatically. I'm getting more into details the more that I write. It's been kind of fun, actually, letting this story take flight. It's continuously growing and evolving. I've got a couple specific points that I'm working towards, events that I'm staging but other than that, the story has kind of taken life on its own. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy Chapter 6!
> 
> ABD

 

There was an evening in the middle of his sixth year that always stood out among many beautiful, wonderful memories.  If he had to guess, it must have been mid-October, possibly just before Halloween, the actual date hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things.  He and Lily had had plans to disappear into one of the many empty, unused classrooms that evening but he had gotten delayed in his own common room.  By the time he finally reached the classroom, he had felt truly awful and spent a full half hour apologizing and explaining while the ginger witch continued to laugh and brush off his concern in favor of teasing him mercilessly.

 

As he had been attempting to make his escape from the Slytherin common room, Simon found himself cornered.  His assailant wasn't necessarily aggressive, or even concerning.  But it was exceedingly embarrassing for the young wizard to find himself at the mercy of one Miss Emmaline Selwyn who had apparently taken a fancy to the Avery heir, much to his consternation.  To his ever mounting horror, the fourth year witch was quite insistent that he was, not only to be her date for the upcoming Hogsmeade visit but that he would be _her_ wizard.  Simon drew the line when the witch attempted to crowd him back into the wall and kiss him.  He certainly recalled hearing Darian and Severus's voices among the echoing laughter as he fled the common room, and Miss Selwyn, that evening to make his way to beg forgiveness from the girl who actually _was_ his witch.

 

He recalled the terror he felt entering the classroom that night and confessing the horrifying experience to the red head.  He recalled with surprising clarity her laughter and the amused tone that laced her sweet voice when she managed to get the words ' _How cute!'_ out between her giggles.  Over the following several weeks, Lily took great pleasure in teasing him about the younger witch's crush and his role in it.  Though, if he was honest, he _also_ happily recalled his favorite way to silence her teasing.  But that was another story.

 

It was no secret amongst the Slytherin's that his flight from the common room and subsequent avoidance did very little to cool Emmaline Selwyn's ardor for Simon Avery.  No, the girl insisted that she simply had to wait her turn but that he would, inevitably, come around and start see it her way.  There was no denying the witch's persistence.

 

Simon was a little bit embarrassed to admit that he allowed himself to find comfort in a casual courting of the little dark-haired witch following the end of his relationship with Lily.  She didn't ease the pain of his loss that she knew nothing about but she provided a much needed distraction.  The pair continued their casual relationship through the duration of the First War.  Lily would have scolded him for his relatively careless treatment of the girl, he was sure of it.  He was quite certain that the 'casual' feelings toward the relationship was utterly one sided.  Emmaline, he knew, would disagree with that descriptor.

 

Lily's teasing laughter from roughly fifteen years earlier echoed through his head as he stepped from the Floo into a vaguely familiar drawing room scattered with several very familiar faces, Emmaline's included.  He felt a slight twinge of guilt that he hadn't even thought about the witch in his years of isolation.  Decidedly ungentlemanly in the way he walked away from their agreement with hardly a word.  He attempted to avoid catching her glare as he cataloged those in attendance. 

 

Lucius sat primly flanked per usual by Crabbe and Goyles Seniors.  The former was eying their entrance while discussing something of interest with Thoros Nott.  The Carrows were looking utterly bored in the far corner with a couple wizards that Simon couldn't quite place.  He was surprised to note several underage witch and wizards holding court in their own corner of the room.  Some he recognized as children of his fellow Death Eaters, others he didn't recognize at all.  He certainly hoped that this meeting would be comparatively tame with children present.  He didn't bother wondering why they weren't safely ensconced up at the castle, certain names did, unfortunately, have pull enough to remove their children temporarily.

 

Names and faces filtered through his mind as he examined the attendees.  It was a much larger gathering than he had expected, to be sure.  Perhaps it shouldn’t have but it struck him quite odd that they had appeared in Darian's drawing room.  It made no sense.  Why be secretive about taking going to his own home.  Simon inwardly shrugged off his confusion and accepted a rather large measure of what looked to be bourbon from a skittish little elf wrapped in a fuchsia tea towel.

 

He took a seat along the edge of the gathering and took to observing for the time being.  Something, he was sure, wasn't earning him any points in the books of his fellow Death Eaters.  But that was fine.  He wasn't here to make friends.  Though perhaps it would behoove him to at least attempt to be approachable.  He'd never learn anything continuing to be a shut away.

 

The witch he had tried very hard to avoid upon entering the gathering perched on the chair just opposite his own.  Simon forced a polite smile over the reluctant grimace his expression actually wanted to take on.

 

"Emmaline, you're looking lovely as always," He greeted politely.  He wasn't untruthful, she had always been a very lovely witch.

 

The witch pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes just slightly, "I'm surprised Darian managed to get you here.  No one's seen or heard from you in some time."

 

"Sometimes isolation is necessary," Simon said, simply.

 

"Hmm," the witch stared blankly at him. "Yes, I suppose.  However, it's generally considered courtesy to at least inform your partner before you disappear on an agreement."

 

Simon winced and took a fortifying gulp from his quickly diminishing glass, "Yes, I'm afraid I failed rather miserably on that count."

 

Emmaline certainly wasn't going to argue _that_.  She studied him intently, seemingly looking for something though Simon couldn't tell quite what.  She didn't seem to find whatever it was.  She sighed and relaxed her poise, leaning comfortably into her seat.  "Are you back, then?"

 

"I'm not sure," Simon said, honestly.  "But I do believe so.  I have the feeling that neither Darian nor Malfoy are going to allow me to return to my solitude in peace."

 

The witch snorted indelicately and glanced curiously at the two wizards in question who were chatting seriously across the room, "No, neither are meant for leaving anyone in peace.  Surely you've not been hidden away _that_ long."

 

He felt an answering smirk cross his face and he shrugged, "No, no, you're quite right, of course."

 

"Another consensus I don’t expect you've really forgotten," the witch smirked. "I usually _am_ right."

 

Simon laughed.  He couldn't help it.  It had been far too long since he had her attention last but she was every bit as delightful as she had been 14 years ago.  There was something _else_ there that he could sense in the back of his mind.  Something he knew he ought to try to sort out but he'd admit to himself alone that he temporarily pleased to allow himself to be distracted.  Temporarily.

 

The pair chatted small talk for little while longer before conversation worked back around to the topic at hand.  "So what is this whole thing about? Darian wouldn't give me much by way of details."

 

"I'm sure he thought himself clever," Emmaline rolled her eyes. "We've all met periodically ever since the fall. Keeping eyes and ears open around us and passing any pertinent information."

 

"To what end?" Simon asked curiously.

 

"You've followed the news out of the World Cup and Hogwarts?"

 

"I have," he confirmed, vaguely.

 

"Well, I'm not sure about you, but I would rather be prepared than caught unaware."

 

Simon nodded idly, "I suppose I don't quite understand why it was so important to get _me_ here.  Darian went as far as to threaten me with his continued company."

 

"Oh my," the witch laughed. "That's quite a threat."

 

"Isn't it though," Simon agreed.

 

"Anyway," the witch began, curbing her laughter. "As I mentioned, we've had these gatherings periodically over the last many years.  Often the witches have smaller tea gatherings or the men meet at one of their exclusive clubs.  It's become rather regular.  But with current events it's been noted who has and hasn't been attending.  Granted, I don't think anyone was truly surprised that you kept your distance.  It's not as though we advertise or that you would have actively searched any of us out on your own."  Simon attempted to force down the guilt once more. "But you _are_ a Death Eater and you're the last Avery.  You belong here, with us.  We just need to remind you."

 

Simon sat silently for a moment, considering her words.  "So I'm essentially here to be reminded of _my place_."

 

"If you want to look at it that way, then yes," Emmaline shrugged, indifferently.

 

"Well then," he said thoughtfully as he drained his glass, setting it on the table next to him where it was promptly replaced with another full measure. "I suspect I've got much to be caught up on having missed nearly fifteen years-worth of meetings.  Am I to assume you've been tasked with the unenviable task of bringing me up to speed?"

 

"I have," she confirmed, her lips twisting into a self-deprecating smile. "I believe Lucius is under the impression that my company is enough to ensure that you're brought fully back into the fold, as it were."

 

"Emmaline…" Simon began, guilt twisting his gut again.

 

"No, no, Simon, I understand," the witch said dismissively. "I'll bring you up to speed, of course but we both know that my company was never enough to keep you anywhere."

 

The wizard grimaced, feeling the words hit their mark and sighed, reaching for his glass to keep his hands occupied, if nothing else.  He downed half the contents in a gulp and stared into the remaining liquid attempting to avoid the penetrating, dark gaze of the witch he had apparently hurt quite badly without having given it a second thought until much, much later.  "Em, I am truly sorry that I left things the way that I did.  It was not my intention to hurt you, truly."

 

"Funny thing about intention, Simon," the witch scoffed, a cynical smile pulling her full, red painted lips to show neat white teeth, "Is that it doesn't change a damned thing.  But that's okay.  I came to terms with it all a very long time ago.  I suppose it's not _your_ fault _I_ fell for a coward."

 

Simon wasn't quite sure what there was to say to that.  He wanted to take offense but she wasn't unjustified nor was she wrong.  He could certainly admit that, in the days, weeks, and months following the Dark Lord's fall, he was very selfish and, yes, even quite cowardly.  He felt like he ought to be begging the witch's forgiveness and perhaps he should.  They had grown quite close, for a time.  Memories of their relationship flooded into his mind, though quite frankly it didn't cast the loveliest of light on their association.  Rather, it made him feel as filthy as he had sitting in the Ministry holding that cold November morning.

 

Chemistry had never been a problem between the pair.  The chemistry was explosive. Their relationship, complicated as it was, had been intense and he recalled how their darkness, once he'd finally succumbed to his, fed off of each other and flourished.  Much of the worst depravity that was associated the name Simon Avery happened at the height of their relationship.  They had often found themselves paired together, their Master knowing that their bloodlust and penchant for violence was much richer when he did.

 

Simon wiped his hands on his thighs, attempting to rid himself of the bloodstained feeling that covered his being at the invasive memories.  It had taken him some time to actually succumb.  Emmaline had a talent for pushing him further and further.  Taking him with her when she embraced her own Darkness.  He had spent an inordinate amount of time under the Imperius Curse that first year that followed his final year at Hogwarts.  He was reluctant to admit to himself, reluctant to remember that a fair number of those Curses stemmed from the wand belonging to the witch sitting just across from him.

 

She was watching him still, he knew.  He could feel her gaze digging a hole in the side of his head.  He wondered if she somehow knew that he was remembering and not remembering favorably.  Simon supposed at some point he would have to force himself past the feeling of disgust.  It was only a matter of time before he found himself in the midst of a mess he, once again, would be incapable of escaping.

 

He found it ironic, however, that his mind went to a little muggleborn witch sitting in a classroom up in Scotland.  Once again, his desire to someday be known as a good, honorable man rose into his mind.  And somehow, the measurement for his honor was the opinion of a muggleborn witch.  And again, it would be very, very stupid indeed to let the witch currently in his company know any of those details.

 

Simon cleared his throat and quickly emptied his glass.  He set it on the table and pointedly ignored the refilled glass that promptly replaced it.  It would be a dangerous game indeed to continue drinking as he had.  Simon knew he had to maintain some clarity lest he do something truly stupid.

 

Like fall back into Emmaline Selwyn.  She looked distinctly put out that her accusation didn't draw a more heated response from him.  The witch seemed to be struggling not to pout that his anger hadn't sparked, like it would have at one point in time.  Their mutual anger had, after all, been the tipping point for many memorable experiences.

 

Simon's attention was distracted by another person taking a seat on his opposite side from the witch.  He glanced over to see Darian taking the open spot and studying the pair.  He nodded curtly to Emmaline before ignoring her entirely, his attention latching on to Avery.  "Lucius told me he gave you a bone to gnaw on.  Have you learned anything about it yet?"

 

Simon blinked rapidly before shaking the confusion from his mind, "No, I haven't as of yet.  There's not really a lot to go on, truthfully.  I'm fairly positive that an _elf_ wasn't the caster, though."

 

Darian snorted derisively, "Obviously.  It's a ridiculous conclusion to begin with.  I'd love to see the qualifications of the idiot who truly believed that announcement."

 

"Definitely not the most well thought out conclusion, to be certain," Simon agreed, leaning back into his seat with his hands clasped over his chest. He tilted his head in thought with a smirk, "I did hear rumor that Amos Diggory tried to accuse both Harry Potter and his little muggleborn chit of being the casters before deciding the elf was responsible."

 

Simon took a little bit of pleasure at the astounded expression on his childhood playmate's expression.  He knew that the tidbit of useless information would be enough to anger the man while potentially setting up for an interesting anecdote in return.

 

"Draco mentioned he saw Potter in the woods that evening," Lucius's voice carried, clearing having heard the conversation.  The blonde wizard glanced over towards his son before casually returning. "Pity we didn't come across them during our fun.  I've heard rumor that the Granger chit is afraid of heights."

 

Simon forced a smirk onto his expression while his peers laughed.  "It sounds like you lot had plenty of fun despite missing out on her company."

 

"Too bad you missed it," Darian grinned.  "We'll have to do it again sometime."

 

"Unfortunately, I would suggest that we turn our attentions to whatever is building around us," Simon suggested, thoughtfully.  "The Triwizard Tournament and Allistar Moody being recalled from retirement to teach?  The Dark Mark showing up at the World Cup and _our_ Marks progressively darkening not to mention the various disappearances that the _Prophet_ has reported?"

 

"You make a good point," Darian nodded, thoughtfully.  "Another reason we decided it was time for you to rejoin us tonight.  What are your thoughts, Avery? What do you suppose we're looking at here?"

 

Simon smirked and eyed the men and women in the room, playing a confidence that he didn't really feel, "I think we all want to make sure to polish our masks in the coming months.  I suspect we might find ourselves needing them in the nearer future."

 

Lucius narrowed his gaze thoughtfully, "For what purpose?"

 

"Not more child's play for certain," Simon sneered, clearly referring to the display at the Quidditch Cup.  "I think we'll just all have to wait and see.  I don't imagine the waiting will be required too much longer."

 

"And where will you be?" Emmaline asked, staring intently.

 

Simon eyed the witch before letting a slow smirk cross his expression, "Didn't you know, I've been reminded of _my place_?  I suspect I'll be in the same place as always, biding my time. Waiting as patiently as a man like me can wait."

 

She didn't seem quite as thrilled with his response as he felt she had hoped to be.  If there was anything that he was especially certain of at that point, it was that getting involved with Emmaline Selwyn would be a very dangerous game indeed.  Simon felt that he was a stronger man, a stronger wizard than he had been at seventeen.  Should he get involved with the witch, he felt he would have a better chance of maintaining control than he did the first time around.

 

However, he wasn't really looking to take that chance.  Not at this time.

 

Conversation stretched on.  And on.  And on.  Simon knew he had to stay long enough to at least be convincing but the heated stare from the witch was pushing him to simply not care.  He rose from his seat and began his farewells, reluctantly, he lent and pressed a chaste, polite kiss to Emmaline's cheek and shook Darian's hand before approaching the fireplace and promptly Flooing home.

 

The moment he stepped through the other side, he promptly sealed his Floo to allow no one but Severus and Hermione through.  The later would be unlikely to show up but with the way of the current world, he refused to shut off her access in the event she, for some reason, truly needed an escape.

 

Once the Floo was sealed of he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair.  "Linky," he called.

 

"Welcome home, Master," Linky said formally in his squeaky voice.

 

"Thank you. Linky, if Severus decides to pop in he is welcome and in the unlikely event Miss Granger requires my attention, she too is welcome.  However, I'm not taking any more visitors," he instructed the elf.  "Anyone else will simply have to call back tomorrow."

 

The elf gave a jerky bow before disappearing from sight.  Simon felt his body sink in exhaustion but made his way carefully to his study.  He groaned when he recalled that he had yet to respond to Hermione's most recent letter.  He had gotten sidetracked by Moody's presence.  Followed, of course, by his impromptu reunion.

 

He let himself drop into the very comfortable chair behind the desk.  After a brief moment of stillness, Simon snatched a piece of parchment and jotted a quick note to the surly Potions Master.

 

_SS--_

_I've returned home, no worse for wear.  They chose to set Emmaline on me.  She's not pleased."_

_\--SA_

 

He quickly sent the missive off with a family owl and pulled a fresh, longer sheet from his desk, settling in with the intent to pen his reply to the Gryffindor witch encouraging her to keep awareness and keep herself safe.  It was quite possibly the shortest letter he had written the girl but he just didn't have it in him that evening.  He slipped the letter into his desk to await the owl's return and apparated himself to his room.  He was done in.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It was nearly a week later before his silence was interrupted once again.  He had just returned from a quick jaunt down to the market to retrieve a lovely little chocolate scone that he had been craving and finally given into his indulgence when Linky popped in front of him, informing him of a pending Floo call.  Simon sighed and looked regretfully at the delicious delight that was, unfortunately, just going to have to wait.  He handed the treat off to his elf and made his way to the receiving room to answer the call.

 

"It's rather rude to leave a lady waiting, Simon," the voice scolded and Simon bit back yet another sigh.

 

"Good morning, Emmaline," he said with forced cheeriness. "What brings your lovely head to my home?"

 

The witch clearly didn't appreciate his attempt at humor if her glare was any sort of indication.

 

"I had said I would get you caught up in everything," she said, coolly. "I, at least, keep my word."

 

Simon bit the inside of his cheek to keep his reluctance from showing on his expression.  He really, really did _not_ want to invite that witch back into his home.  "I'll come through if you'd like?  No need to keep you on the floor for the duration of the conversation."

 

He could tell _that_ wasn't much appreciated either but Emmaline cleared her expression and simply nodded in agreement before pulling herself from the Floo to allow Simon to travel.  He didn't need to ask the address, there was a time when he had known it as well or better than he'd known his own.  He was reluctant to go to her but it was still better than bringing that sort of awful back into his home before he absolutely had to.  A quick dash of Floo Powder and he found himself standing in front of a very irritable witch.

 

"Hello," he smiled awkwardly, shrugging when she rolled her eyes in annoyance.

 

"Very well, you're here," she turned and bid him to follow. Simon did as instructed, keeping his eyes busy studying the home that he had arrived into.  As she guided him along, he got a very disconcerting sense that absolutely _nothing_ had changed since the last time he had stepped foot inside, nearly 15 years ago.  How did someone not make any changes to their home in 15 years?  He wasn't sure why but the sameness made him more than slightly uncomfortable.

 

When they had settled in the library, there was something in her expression that Simon couldn't for the life of him interpret but he was sure he didn't much like.  He avoided shuffling in his seat and forced his expression pleasant.  This was going to be a very trying debrief.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It was late by the time Simon finally stumbled back through his own fireplace, exhausted.  Spending an entire day getting update on what essentially amounted to the "who's who" of the social hierarchy was in no way his preferred way to spend his time.  He was fairly certain that Emmaline had known that too and stretched his debriefing into far more intricate territory than she would have probably done otherwise.

 

Simon grumbled a variety of curses under his breath as he made his way into his own library, desperate to take in some information with substance.  His father had been something of a social climber, his sisters had to some extent as well but it was not something that Simon ever felt any sort of interest in following.  Granted, he knew that as a member of the Sacred 28, there was a social balance and certain etiquettes that were necessary to follow.  There were traditions that were meant to be followed.  Obviously, Simon wasn't snubbing the social graces that he had been raised to follow.  He simply had no desire to play the games required to climb the ladder.

 

He quickly summoned the family ledger books and settled himself in his comfortable wingback chair.  He was pleased with the current returns being made on the investments he had taken quite a risk on some years earlier.  Each family within the country tended to have specific areas in which they focused themselves.  Not every member of the Houses clung to their family's niche but it the family businesses were pretty consistent.  The Avery family had found their niche in investing in agricultural advancements almost as soon as their foothold was set in country.

 

Granted, it wasn't as fancy as being fully invested in Charms or Potions or some other single facetted focus like some of the other families.  But even witch and wizards needed to eat.  The majority of the investments that had been made prior to Simon taking over had been very low risk with moderate returns.  Avery's were already decently well off.  His vaults would probably be more than stable for even any great-grandchildren that he might someday have without his current investments.  But Simon had to admit he enjoyed playing the risk and even more so when they paid off.

 

Once he had taken over the family books, Simon had spent months combing through every single incoming and outgoing transaction. He'd spent hours upon hours communicating with the Goblins, sorting through the good and the bad and pruning the accounts of anything that wasn't beneficial for the future.  And then he had set to researching.  He had found a pair of independent researchers who were working towards some potentially huge developments in agriculture.  He did his due diligence and dug into the researcher and, in the end, approached the Goblins to have the Avery family invest in this researcher's talents.

 

That he, a Death Eater, was investing his family's business in a muggleborn research pair was simply icing on the cake.  Not to mention that his risk was already returning to him several times over.  Simon Avery may not be a scholar, but he was doing alright for himself.

 

He closed the ledger and settled it on the table next to him, taking a moment to unwind after the ridiculousness of the day. "Linky," he called, "have I received any post today?"

 

The elf popped into the library and handed two sealed letters, "The owls be leaving them on your desk, Master."

 

"Thank you, Linky," Simon nodded. "Did I miss anything?"

 

"You dids not, sir," the house elf said, large ears flopping as he shook his head.

 

"Very well," he dismissed, glancing down at the letters in hand.  He placed the thinnest one aside, knowing that there was unlikely to be details of any sort in any letter that Severus might have sent.  He would read it, he just chose to read Hermione's letter first.  It was more likely to engage his mind that was otherwise stuck recalling his social debriefing from earlier that day.

 

_Simon,_

_Professor Moody, Simon, I don't know what to make of him!  He's certifiably insane!  He turned Draco Malfoy into a ferret!  As punishment!  I mean, Malfoy **did** try to hex Harry when his back was turned.  But that's not all, we actually had him in class today.  We were all very interested in seeing what his first lesson was going to be.  It was the Unforgivables.  I must admit that it was an interesting lesson but surely it's not something suitable for fourth years?  He used spiders to provide a demonstration.  They're as terrifying to see active as they are fascinating to learn about.  _

_Simon, you mentioned before that you spent a lot of time under the Imperius Curse.  May I ask what sort of long term, lasting effects it has?  Can it be fought off?  Or is the victim of the curse simply doomed to their fate?  Are you okay?_

_I'm not entirely certain why but Neville Longbottom was very distressed following the lesson.  The demonstration on the Cruciatus Curse seemed especially hard on him.  Do you possibly know why he might have had the reaction he did?  I know it's not my business, exactly, but I do feel bad that I can't help one of my dear friends because I don't know **how** to help him.  Were you ever placed under the Cruciatus?  It's awful.  I really hope that you were spared that one, though I've got a feeling it's a naïve hope. _

_I've been doing the reading you sent on House Elves.  I still believe that there's a lot that could be done.  I don't feel it's right that these sentient creatures should be used and abused.  I understand, only somewhat admittedly, that the nature of the House Elf bonds aren't what I originally believed them to be but I don't understand the bonds themselves.  Do you have books on bonds that might help me to better understand?  Is there a way that, down the road possibly, the bonds could be used to protect the Elves from being abused?  Like Dobby and Winky have been? Surely there's some way that we can do **something**.  I thought about talking with my various housemates and see if they would be interested in helping me set something up.  I had mentioned it to Harry and Ron.  Harry couldn’t seem to care less.  He received a letter from Sirius and it put him in a right foul mood.  Ron thinks I've lost my mind, I think.  That it's ridiculous that I should be concerned with the welfare of House Elves.  He seems to think I'm just making a fool out of myself.  I'm not exactly discouraged but it's not exactly encouraging either, if that makes sense.  What do you think, Simon?  Am I wasting my time?_

_Hermione_

Simon leaned further into his seat and considered the contents of the letter.  He wasn't entirely impressed that they had demonstrations on the Unforgivables but, at the same time, he knew that she needed to be aware.  His body shuddered in memory of the unimaginable pain caused by the torture curse.  Unable to properly formulate the words to compose a response at that moment, he set the letter on top of the ledger books on the table next to him, promising himself that he would pen his response first thing the following morning.  With a deep breathe, Simon opened the second letter.

 

_SA--_

_It's likely I will not be able to hold to our monthly appointment this term.  Moody seems to be keeping a very close watch on my movement.  You're currently not under watch, there's no reason to bring you back into his attention.  With everything unfolding for this ridiculous Tournament, my presence is apparently required.  They're making me chaperone a Ball.  Unbelievable._

_You chaperone the ball and I'll deal with Miss Selwyn, fair trade right?_

_Of course not._

_Stop laughing, pompous arse._

_\--SS_

He chuckled and then sighed.  He had intended on passing along more of the details his recent interactions when they had their monthly meet at the pub but it looked as though he might have to wait until the end of term.  He wasn't certain that he fully trusted the post that extensively.  He supposed he could use the extra time to work on integrating himself back into the social ranks.  It couldn’t be done too abruptly without raising eyebrows.  If he was careful, he might be able to work his way in with Emmaline.  He would just have to keep his awareness that the witch kept her wand pointed _away_ _from him_.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Simon,_

_Professor Moody did another demonstration on the Unforgivables today.  Rather than spiders though, he placed all of us under the Imperius.  It was horrible, Simon!  Someone could quite literally force their victim to do anything.  I mean, I know you know that.  And I had read about the Curse, of course, but to actually experience it.  Harry was actually able to throw it off.  I wish I had that type of strength.  I don't like the idea of being that vulnerable._

_I'm sorry for the short letter here.  The Professors are gearing us up for OWLS, despite the fact that we don't test until fifth year.  I enjoy learning, of course, but my workload is definitely more than even I had hoped for.  Not that I'll admit that to the boys.  The other schools will be at Hogwarts before too much longer and that's bound to make everything that much crazier.  I hope you're doing well._

_Hermione_

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Hermione,_

_It is a very vulnerable feeling to be held under the Imperius Curse. Perhaps it would be a kinder curse if the victim didn't recall every little thing that they were forced to do.  But you do.  You remember everything.  It's a horrifying curse.  I've always felt that the Killing Curse was possibly the least offensive of the three Unforgivables.  Yes, a life is ended but it's quick and comparatively painless.  The Cruciatus is awful, obviously.  The pain is something that is beyond imagination.  But even it, I think, is kinder than the Imperius.  I would choose torture to having my free will taken away from me any day._

_My letters may be slower in response time.  I don't expect a drastic change but you should be aware that it very well may be.  I am working on my own project for our long game and there may be increasing times were I am not immediately available.  Unfortunately, it would appear as though my much loved solitude has come to an end.  We will absolutely continue our lessons and I fully expect you to continue to flourish._

_Keep your eyes open, Hermione, things are beginning to unravel around us._

_Yours,_

_Simon_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon interacts with the Old Crowd

 

Simon ran his hands tiredly through his hair with a sigh that did nothing to relieve any of his exhausted frustration.  The weeks were passing so quickly as of late and he found himself in the company of Emmaline more days than not.  Thankfully, they had moved past the social hierarchy into the actual necessary details of the previous fifteen years.  Obviously, he was grateful not to return home each night feeling as though his brain was rotting out of his skull but the more time he spent around the Selwyn witch the more potent he could feel his own Darkness growing.  It was as though simply being around the witch was enough for his magic and his darkness to remember and to start yearning once more. 

 

He wasn't quite sure whether it was his mind playing tricks on him or if the studying looks he had been receiving over the previous weeks meant that Emmaline knew exactly what he was experiencing.  What she was causing within him.  Simon had a feeling, though, that she knew and she was biding her time, waiting for the moment where she could be the one to push him back over that ledge.

 

Quite frankly, it left him feeling very unclean.  As though there was a physical contaminant that mirrored the stained and tainted essence of his magic and his soul.

 

Dear Merlin, when did he become so dramatic?

 

Simon scoffed and rolled his eyes to himself as he pushed away from his desk and paced the length of his library.  As overly dramatic as it truly felt to say, Simon _knew_ that his Darkness was leeching further and further into his being.  He could feel it grow, stronger and stronger as each day passed.  Somehow, despite having used no magic or intention that could be considered Dark, his Darkness had awoken.  He pushed the sleeve of his left arm up past his elbow and stared blankly at the Mark that had started his downward spiral into Darkness the first time. 

 

It was a logical assumption that being around so many others who also bared the mark--and therefore a similar Darkness--had contributed to the reawakening that he was sensing.  Perhaps…just maybe Emmaline wasn't solely to blame, despite the fact that he spent more time in her presence than anyone else's.  It was interesting to note that, despite the past decade and a half in regular contact with Severus, his Darkness was only just beginning to reawaken.  Was Magic even more aware than even he had place his beliefs?  Did it somehow know and comprehend what he and Severus were attempting to do?  Then why was his Magic turning again?  Was Magic turning its back on him?

 

Or…or maybe it was giving him the tools required to accomplish this ridiculously insane quest.  It was times like these that he really wished Severus was able to get away from the school for a short time.  How did you put such a struggle into writing?

 

Perhaps whatever was happening around them--the disappearances and so on--was also a contributing factor.  Again, a logical assumption.  Then again, perhaps it was just easier for his mind, and his heart, to place the blame at the feet of the woman who was all too happy to fan the flames. 

 

Simon glared at the Dark Mark on his arm and studied it intently.  It had definitely darkened significantly.  He had spent many of years thinking that his Mark had gone unchanged after his _Master's_ demise.  Lately, though, he could see that he had been absolutely mistaken.  The hated Mark was returning, entirely too rapidly, to its former glory and Simon found that he almost missed the faded, blotched version.

 

A sharp pop had him jerking his sleeve sharply back into place and turning on his heel to greet the intruder, nearly losing his balance in the process.  He had to admit that he was slightly embarrassed to face Linky.  The elf's amused, patronizing expression was enough to draw a flush over his face.  Simon cleared his throat and shrugged before forcing an expectant expression over his obviously embarrassed one.

 

"Master Snape is in the Floo, Master," the elf squeaked, though Simon was mildly distracted by the clear amusement still present in the tone of the creature that all but raised him.  Once the message sank in, however, Simon frowned.  It was unusual for the Potion's Master to floo, generally preferring post or a drop in visit.  He knew Yule approached in just a matter of weeks and the dour man was still very much dreading his responsibilities for the Yule Ball but certainly that didn't warrant an unexpected floo call.

 

Simon nodded to Linky in thanks and apparated immediately to the fireplace to find his friend's impatient expression waiting for him.  He quickly settled himself into the chair opposite the fire and leaned forward expectantly, elbows resting on his knees.  "What's going on?"

 

"You remember Igor Karkoff, correct?" Severus asked, abruptly.

 

"I do," Simon confirmed, frowning in thought.

 

"Somehow, your name has begun coming up within the circles again.  You've been mentioned, by name specifically, a number of times in conversation by Karkoff in regards to your sudden reappearance into _polite society_ ," Simon had to fight the urge to smirk at the distain in which the Potion's Master spat the term. "I am unsure why he is of interest or if he's begun speaking within range of Allistar, but you should be aware that the associations of the Avery name are being remembered."

 

Simon refused to let his shoulders or his head sink at the revelation.  He would have to play things very carefully going forward.  Perhaps, even, warn Miss Granger of the potential risk.  "Thank you for the warning, Severus.  What is being said?"

 

"Your sudden reappearance has drawn attention to those who were...lesser within the ranks," Severus said, thoughtfully.  "Like it or not, Simon, you had built quite a reputation back before.  Regardless of why or how, that you've returned from your 'sabbatical' is a topic of interest."

 

He shook off the distaste that the idea of being _admired_ for his bloodlust.  "Well don't expect very much enthusiasm over it."

 

"I'd expect nothing of the sort," Severus said, dismissively. "However, I mustn't keep this connected much longer.  I simply thought a verbal warning might sink into your thick skull quicker than it would via post."

 

With an amused smirk, Simon nodded in understanding, "Thank you, friend.  How goes preparations for your Ball?"

 

Simon couldn't help the loud laugh that escaped as the Potions Master narrowed his eyes in irritation and abruptly withdrew his head from the fireplace.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Simon,_

_I told you already about the first task previously and how Harry and Ron patched things up without so much as a blink?  Simon, why are boys so incredibly frustrating? I'm sure you already know that there's to be a Yule Ball hosted at Hogwarts.  Well, I was asked.  Boring, bushy haired Hermione Granger was actually asked.  It was only after that Ronald realized that they were out of time and out of luck but then 'Oh wait, Hermione's a girl right?' The worst part of being best friends with teenage boys is that they're insensitive nightmare's half of the time.  Of course I'm a girl!  And then, he actually accused me of making up an imaginary date to save face.  Because, clearly, I'm not pretty or popular enough to have actually been asked on my own merit, right?  Do boys really have no sense of when to simply stop talking?_

_I'm sorry, Simon.  I hadn't intended to unload like this.  I don't mean to bore you with teenage drama. Viktor Krum was kind enough to ask me to the Ball.  He said it was because I don't care for Quidditch and I don't follow him around like a lost puppy.  Well, that's what he tried to say.  We're still working on improving his understanding of spoken English.  I'm going to show them all.  It'll take far more time and effort than I really care to think about at this point but I'm going to show them all.  Not only am I a bookworm but I'm also a girl worth more than simply being a textbook or someone to do their homework when they don't care to (which, I've stopped doing…Mostly)._

_Anyway, correspondence has been brief on both ends as of late.  Is everything okay?  I hope you're doing well.  Is there anything that you've got that I might be able to help you with?  Anything that I can work on passing to the boys?_

_I'm returning the most recent set of books on Bonds that you sent.  I think I need a break from this topic to let my mind assimilate everything that I've read this far.  It's a very fascinating topic though, thank you again for allowing me to read from your library.  Do you have any suggestions for the next topic?_

_I look forward to hearing from you and if I don't talk to you before, Happy Yule, Simon!_

_Hermione_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Hermione,_

_I have no doubt you'll show them exactly what you're wanting them to see.  You're a lovely young witch and I imagine in coming years many will regret the way they've treated you now.  As best you can, pay them no mind and do what you do best: outshine the entirety of your competition.  I'll not hear any more of their ignorance tarring your perception of yourself, however.  Nor will I hear any further apologies for speaking your mind to me.  That is what I am here for._

_I am assimilating with some old friends as of late.  You've likely heard many of their names during your research.  As a forewarning, don't be surprised if you begin hearing my name among your peers.  It would seem that my reintroduction has not gone unnoticed and it would seem that the stories of my past deeds are back in circulation.  On one hand, it makes my current tasking easier.  On the other, however, you know I'm not overly fond of being reminded of history.  Things are changing rapidly.  There's a sense of unknown which is making many of my fellows nervous.  We are all aware that something significant is coming. **We** know, or at least suspect, what it is but there is no telling how or when it is coming.  I don't feel we're very far off from it.  I'd bet nearly my entire Estate that we likely have a year, at very most before this comes to a head.  There's too many details, too many small pieces that have been falling into place that it makes little sense for it to drag out much longer than that.  What I require from you, Hermione, is to stay focused.  Be aware and be observant.  Everything is significant.  Pay special attention to protecting your mind.  _

_Please remember in these coming months that whatever news you may hear about me is probably true to some extent.  I am stepping back into Darkness.  Whatever is coming, it will be Dark and it will very likely be deadly and I fully intend to do my part to make it as brief as I possibly can and to survive it.  And to keep you and your boys safe.  That means I will be getting my hands, and likely my soul, dirty.  You're a smart girl.  You're developing into a very aware witch.  You, my dear girl, are going to blossom into a witch to rival McGonagall's namesake.  A warrior witch with the strength of wisdom and knowledge guiding her._

_I had not intended to drift so far off course in this letter but they are things you must know for the coming months.  I have no doubt you'll surpass even Severus and my already high expectations.  I imagine you'll hear more of this from me as time draws Darker.  I feel a bit ashamed that I pass even a touch of my Darkness to someone so young and so Light.  However, I understand the necessity.  Severus and I must play in the Dark.  You must live in the Light but operate in the grey and that means you must at least be aware of the Dark so that it does not succeed in dragging you under as well._

_I am sending you books on two separate topics.  The first will take you further into the art of Healing.  There are more detailed things that Poppy Pomfrey would skin me for giving to someone so young as their magical requirements are much more demanding than what you have yet done.  I would highly suggest that you do not attempt them on your own.  Reading and committing the information to memory and you may try them over the summer if events allow us to continue our in-person studies.  The second is Arthrimancy.  This would be a book you wouldn't generally even see until at least your NEWT level project in the course, if not into your apprenticeship.  Again, I would highly recommend that you do not attempt to dive into these as of yet.  Read the material.  Get yourself to a point where you feel you understand what you've read and we will discuss it from there._

_I do hope that my letter hasn't dampened your Yule celebrations.  I wish you the best and truly look forward to seeing the inevitable photographs.  Happy Yule, Hermione._

_Yours,_

_Simon_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Simon quickly set his quill aside and sent the long letter off to the little witch up at the castle before he could reconsider his dark warnings.  The girl was old enough and mature enough to take the warnings in the spirit in which they were meant and truly needed to know everything that he had said.  But to potentially put her on edge just before Yule?  Was that unfair?  Possibly, yes.  But she had to be kept safe and the only way to do so would be keeping her aware.  He leaned back into his seat and sighed, glancing up at the clock.  A groan escaped him and he let his head fall forward onto his desk.  He had an hour, maybe, to prepare for dinner at the Mulciber estate.  He sat himself back up and closed his eyes, settling himself into a meditative state that he had perfected over the years to ground himself before facing the music.

 

Entirely too soon, he reminded Linky that both Severus and Hermione had a standing invitation should they need it but no one else was expected or welcome before carefully stepping through the activated floo.  He had only enough time to remove the soot from his robes before a slender arm snaked through his left at the elbow, tightening possessively.

 

"Good evening, Emmaline," Simone greeted politely, not needing to look to know just who the arm belonged to.  Stepping into the role he had been playing now for weeks, he turned to his companion for the evening with a smile, covering her hand with his right with affection that he'd not truly felt in years. "You're looking as lovely as always."

 

It was amusing, and to his surprise, drew a small amount of genuine affection into his chest when his casual compliment seemed to fluster the witch.  Pushing aside his discomfort regarding his internal feelings, Simon carefully led the witch into the formal dining room where he knew they would be expected, making small talk along the way.  As he was raised to do, he carefully pulled the witch's chair and scooted it back into place once she was seated before taking his own to her right. 

 

It wasn't until he was settled into his own seat that he felt the weight of the staring.  With a great amount of control, Simon raised slowly his own gaze to meet the pale silver of the Malfoy patriarch.  He carefully arched a brow and smirked, "Lucius, I trust you're well."

 

The blond wizard offered a sneer in return, "How is the puzzle coming along, Avery?"

 

"That's hardly appropriate dinner conversation, Lucius, don't you think?" Simon countered, mildly.

 

"Yes, Lucius, let's not put everyone off their appetite before the first course has even been served, yeah?" Emmaline spoke up snidely from Simon's left.  He was unsurprised when a dark, dainty hand slipped from her lap to carefully squeeze just above his knee.  Simon closed his hand over hers both to ensure there was no traveling higher and, of course, to show his own unvoiced appreciation at cutting Lucius's tangent from gaining speed.

 

"I suppose you're quite right," Malfoy agreed grudgingly, nodding his head regally towards the witch.  Simon smirked inwardly at the rather blatant snub from the other wizard.  It really was too easy to get that man worked up.

 

He was thankful, however, when the first of several courses was served. It made it much simpler to avoid idle conversation.  Though, he was sure he'd not escape the questions once they retired after dinner.

 

At least the food was wonderful.  Darian never did turn down an opportunity to show off.

 

During more traditional meals and gatherings, following dinner the witches and wizards would go their separate ways.  'Boys would be boys' and all that rot.  However, considering the dinner was essentially a large number of the "old guard" it had become the norm for everyone to retire together and discuss current affairs, all of which Simon found himself caught up on thanks to the past several weeks of lessons with Emmaline.  And of course to plan for contingencies, though very little planning ever seemed to happen with a bunch of overgrown peacocks strutting around one another.

 

Simon eventually found himself settled on a settee, an overly filled glass of brandy in hand and Emmaline settled beside him, a considerable glass of elfish wine in her own.  He had to admit, as reluctant as he was about her presence specifically, having the regular company of a lovely witch was something he had forgotten that he had missed.

 

"Very well, Avery, now it is not inappropriate conversation," Lucius stated, snidely. "What have you learned?"

 

Simon smirked at the other wizard and deliberately took a long, slow drink from his glass, making a show of enjoying the flavor--it really was wonderful, after all--before giving over his attention to the question asked.  His smirk grew when the obvious annoyance crossed the blonde's expression.

 

"Well, Lucius," Simon began, savoring the grimace at the casual use of the man's given name.  "I'm of the belief that we will know, with certainty, by the end of the coming year.  There's too much that's started happening at essentially the same time for it to be a true coincidence.  Has anyone put ears to the ground for the source or are you all relying on the resident recluse for intelligence?"

 

"Draco reported that Karkoff is at Hogwarts as Headmaster of Durmstrang," Lucius stated.

 

"I had heard that," Simon nodded.  "Though Igor at Hogwarts is hardly 'ears to the ground'.  The man is probably as clueless as the rest of us, if not more so, all things considered.  I've said before, there's too many pieces coming together for it all to be purely coincidence.  Yet we've got absolutely nothing but meager scraps to go off of.  Schoolyard gossip is what we've resorted to.  It's unacceptable if we're to have any sort of forewarning about what is coming our way."

 

"Then I would suggest, Avery," Lucius drawled, scathingly, "that you do as you've been tasked and find the necessary information."

 

"And if I find myself disinclined to share what I find?" Simon challenged.

 

Grey eyes narrowed, "I think you recall that we are capable of being quite persuasive."

 

"Your last form of persuasion was to threaten me with your continued presence," Simon snorted. "While quite a deterrent on its own, you'll be good to remember that I do _not_ report to you, Lucius.  I am not your lackey nor your servant.  If there's something you would like from me I would highly suggest you draw upon the business acumen that you're so very fond of and find a new approach."

 

"Alright, alright that's enough," Darian said moving cautiously between the two wizards, despite that they were nearly half the room apart as it was.  "Simon, it would benefit us all to know what is coming and quite frankly you are the only one here with both the mind and the free time to follow leads.  I'm sure if you asked nicely enough Ms. Selwyn would be gracious enough to keep you company during your research.  Lucius, please keep in mind that you do _not_ rule this particular roost, yeah?"

 

Simon raised his glass, noting idly that it had been discretely refilled during his verbal sparring, in a mocking salute to his childhood playmate.  Chatter picked up throughout the room once the tension had been broken.  Darian once more proved himself to be quite the host.

 

Several wonderful glasses of brandy and three hours of decidedly less delightful conversation and company later, Simon bid his goodbyes and made his way to the floo.  He was very aware, however, of the witch who had once again wrapped herself securely around his left arm. As they entered the receiving room, he found himself disoriented has his back was pressed abruptly against the door that had apparently been closed behind them.  His mind returned to him when a pair of lips and a small body were pressed firmly and eagerly against him.

 

Simon had pointedly ensured to avoid most physical forms of affections save for the very most proper up until that point.  However, between the sweetness of entirely too much good brandy and the persistent pressure of a lovely witch, he found himself questioning his own logic.  The kiss, like the suddenness, was intense.  There was no doubt that the fiery chemistry was very much still present.

 

Ignoring his own rising desire to continue he planted his hands onto the curve of her waist and pulled her away, just enough.  "Em…this…it's not a good idea."

 

"Name one good reason," the witch murmured against his throat, "and I'll stop."

 

He shuddered as teeth scraped the lobe of his ear and he attempted to catch his wits.  Which thoroughly escaped him at that moment.  He felt his hands lower to her hips and pull her more firmly against him.  Her victorious chuckle echoed in his mind and he wasn't sure he liked it.  So his lips silenced them.

 

The pair stumbled to the floo.  Simon couldn't have said with any amount of certainty which residence they had travelled to.

 

In the morning, he was most certainly going to hate himself.  However, for now…

 

For now he'd blame the brandy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dark Lord Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For starters this chapter did not want to play very nicely BUT I got it done. A BIG thanks to GaeilgeRa for helping me get this shaped up properly! Life has been a little upside down lately but I'm hoping that getting this chapter off of my plate means that I'm starting to find balance and getting back into the groove of writing. 
> 
> This is a slightly shorter chapter simply because to make it any longer would have been forced and wouldn't have flowed quite as well. Typically, I avoid taking lines directly from the books, unfortunately with this chapter it was a necessity even still I tried to keep it to a minimum. But what you recognize comes straight from the Goblet of Fire. There's also some interactions that are setting the groundwork for the story going forward so if it seems a little out there, I promise, there's a reason for it. I know that's a little vague but I don't want to be a spoilsport either.
> 
> Anyway, without stalling you any further, here is Chapter 8! Let me know what you think!
> 
> ABD

 

One evening.  That's all it had taken for all of his self-loathing to resurface.  Even in the moment, Simon had known that he would inevitably hate himself once the light of day shown on his actions.  He had never intended to become involved with Emmaline once more.  He could blame loneliness or the alcohol, but he knew the only true blame fell on himself. The days following were an endless stream of self-flagellation.  And then, as he knew he would be required to do countless times in the coming months, Simon tucked the fury into a box in the back of his mind to atone for at a later date.

 

Settled behind his desk, he took the time to address correspondence from Gringotts and pretended for a short time that everything was _normal_. The little witch tucked away in the castle had used their communications as a way to vent about lessons, teenage boys, and one pesky reporter.  It did his troubled mind good to be able to offer support and advice to the young witch.  Though, were he honest, said reporter would probably not enjoy the private introduction that he was considering.  Simon smirked to himself at the thought before tucking it away for later consideration.

 

He had only just filed away his letters and pulled the ledger books for review when Linky alerted him to a visitor.  How he missed the days when no one had any reason to call on him unannounced.

 

"So this is where you disappeared to," a feminine voice announced her presence before she had fully entered the room. "I guess I should have expected you to retreat back to your isolation."

 

"Emmaline," Simon greeted, rising politely from his chair as she approached.  Ever the man that he was raised to be, he ensured the witch was settled before retaking his own. "I wasn't expecting company, what brings you by?"

 

The witch smirked coyly. "Why wouldn't I want to relieve you of your self-incrimination?"

 

Simon looked up, trying to carefully hide his surprise and confusion. Her rich laughter told him that his attempts were lacking, at best.

 

"Come now, Simon," she smiled, coyly. "I've known you for far too many years not to know _exactly_ what this is.   _You're_ getting cold feet again."

 

"Em…"

 

"No, no, I'd expected it," Emmaline interrupted thoughtfully. "For an Avery, you've always been awfully noble.  I imagine you're getting squeamish about getting involved with me, but you seem to forget that I'm the type of witch that gets what she wants.  And that has always been you.  So when you're done with your little pity party and remember who you are, we might actually be able to get back to reality."

 

Simon found himself staring blankly at the witch seated on the opposite side of his desk.  He was somewhat dumbfounded if he were honest. This woman was a force of nature when she chose to be. He carefully thought over his options.  Association with her was a guaranteed way to find himself amongst company that would allow him to learn information and help Severus and Hermione in the long run.  In the short term, however, was he willing to lose himself?

 

He cleared his throat and called Linky for a tea service before turning his attention back.  "Very well, shall I have Linky prepare another place for dinner this evening?"

 

A wide, heated smile was his answer.

 

He was damned to repeat his history, wasn't he?

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

As had become the norm over the preceding several months, Simon found himself seated at the dining table across from Emmaline, enjoying another quiet meal with the witch.  At times, it disturbed him how quickly he had fallen into the decades-old habit of enjoying the witch's company.  That night was no different, truthfully.  Conversation flowed evenly and friendly enough.  He had still managed to somehow get away with not inviting her into his home for too many extended periods, so he absolutely counted that as a win.

 

Their discussion had gradually shifted back to the politics in the Wizarding world when Simon had the most bizarre sense of disorientation.  One moment, he was defending his passionate belief that Magic made no mistakes and the very next he found that he'd curled around his left arm that he had pinned against his chest, bracing himself against the long-forgotten pain.  Surely this must be some twisted form of muscle memory.  He had nearly convinced himself that it was an imagined pain until he raised his attention to his companion.  While bracing similar pain, the witch's expression had caught fire.  There was a tinge of fear, but it was decidedly overwhelmed by the pure excitement and enthusiasm. 

 

Simon swallowed a heavy bought of fear and pasted what he hoped was a neutral façade. "Em, I'll meet you there.  I must go quickly lest I be late."

 

The witch, however, had already fled the room to prepare herself.

 

With haste, the wizard Floo'd to his home.  "LINKY!" he bellowed as he promptly apparated himself into his study.  As soon as the elf appeared, Simon turned in a panic, "Linky, I need you to bring me the robes and mask.  Quickly, please.  It's happened."

 

Without allowing his mind to panic further, he hastily snatched a quill and parchment and quickly jotted a note:

 

_Hermione,_

_By the time you get this, you'll no doubt be aware of what has happened this evening.  I do not know what the immediate future holds for me. Do not reply to this letter until I can send you an update.  Keep yourself and your boys safe.  Severus will no doubt update me on what has happened from the side of Light.  Protect your mind and stay safe. _

_Yours,_

_Simon_

Quickly tying the note to his owl, Simon turned as Linky arrived with the requested, hated items.  With shaky hands, he attempted to dress himself.  When his fingers failed him for the third time, Linky, ever the rock during Simon's storms, snapped his tiny fingers and both robes and mask settled themselves properly into place on the wizard.  He gripped the edge of the desk and took a deep, grounding breath.  Reaching inside himself, he took hold of the Magic and begged for the strength necessary to see this nightmare through to the end.

 

Not giving himself the opportunity to think further, as he said lest he be late--a deadly mistake if there ever was one--Simon focused on the pain in his left arm and apparated directly from his study to the location that the summoning had guided.  A very brief, cursory glance told him that he was in a graveyard.  Odd, but he'd hardly question it at the moment.  Surviving this night had quickly become the top priority in his mind's list.  He quickly fell into a kneel alongside his arriving brethren, grateful that despite his nerves and the dash home, he wasn't the last to arrive.  After the required groveling, Simon took what had become 'his spot' prior to the fall thirteen years prior with Emmaline to his left, Nott just behind her and McNair a step behind and to the left.  He'd always hated having McNair at his back.  The man was a ruthless brute but not an unintelligent one. 

 

Keeping his eyes low, he studied the area.  One young boy was clearly dead.  At this point, he could only hope that it had been quick and painless, for the boy's sake.  And there, _that_ he was certain was Harry Potter.  Which did not bode well in the least.  For anyone.   Those beautiful eyes, though, that boy truly could be no one but Lily Potter's son. 

 

His thoughts were promptly interrupted "Welcome, Death Eaters," said Voldemort quietly.  "Thirteen years…thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday…We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! _Or are we?_ "***

 

Simon tried his hardest to tone out his Master's castigation of him and his brethren.  The cloud of fear among the gathered Death Eaters was entirely too easy to pick up, as potent as it was.  Near the end of his Master's verbal berating, Simon stiffened, feeling the obvious feel of the tip of a wand pressing into the center is back.  Damned if he didn't loathe that bastard who thrived on the humiliation of his brethren more than Lucius Malfoy ever did.  Should this coup succeed, Walden McNair was at the top of a long list of deaths that Simon would be more than pleased to see.  Before he could react, not that he honestly could have without drawing his Master's ire, Simon felt the floating feeling of the Imperius Curse descend upon his mind.  His fear that he had been suppressing since his Mark had burned at dinner evaporated and all was peaceful.

 

"Master!" he shrieked, "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!"*** And then, almost instantly, the Imperius was gone, and the Cruciatus took its place.   _Bastard._ Pain that he had once thought that he would never forget wracked through his body like he hadn't remembered.  Pain was all his mind could register.  Even his anger towards the wizard who had cursed him initially had fled at the onslaught of pain.  And then, so quick he might have thought he'd imaged it were it not for the lingering aftershocks, it was gone.  When his Master bid him to his feet, he did so promptly if not shakily.  His mind now easily tuned out the rest of the lecture as he shakenly retook his place among the rest. 

 

He had already been watching Lily's son as discretely as he was capable as he pulled himself together when the attention of the masses was drawn to the small, scrawny boy.  He grimaced behind his mask at the boy's obvious pain.  He knew there was truly nothing that he could actually do.  Not without forfeiting both of their lives.  All it would take would be getting the boy back to that cup.  But the immediate situation left no openings to even discretely assist.

 

Simon had honestly forgotten how long-winded his Master could be once he got into a 'storytelling' mood.  While he was genuinely fascinated by the lengths in which their Master had gone to return to the world of the living, he was equally horrified that such a thing was possible.  He was hit with the absurdity of his situation.  His evening started with a casual, albeit comfortable, dinner with a witch he both enjoyed and loathed.  It was seeming as though it was finishing in a spectacularly awful way.

 

_"Crucio!"_

 

He clenched his hands into tight fists to keep himself steady.  It would do no good to try to stop the wizard currently.  Nothing more or less than his death.  He repeated that in his mind, a mantra.  He refused to let himself block out the boy's cries of pain.  A pain he knew all too well.  He would not disrespect Harry Potter, or his late parents, by not recognizing the agony he was facing.  So he remained vigilant and observant.  He watched his Master mock and toy under the guise of a duel.  There wasn't a soul in that graveyard that genuinely believed it would be a fair duel.  Cat and mouse sounded unfortunately accurate. 

 

There were very, very few occasions during which Simon could truthfully say that he was glad to be wearing his mask.  However, the moment when Harry Potter not only threw off their Master's Imperius but also dodged, ducked and avoided the round of the Cruciatus that had been thrown his way, Simon could genuinely say that he was grateful.  His mask, after all, hid the grin of relief and approval at the teenaged wizard's presence of mind that many grown witches and wizards were incapable of having.

 

_"Expelliarmus!" "Avada Kedavra!"_

Simon held his breath as the vibrant green spell hurdled towards the boy wizard.  He attempted to brace himself for the inevitability that he had failed his promise from over a decade prior.  He felt a crippling pain in his heart, his soul at the very thought.  Except…except Harry Potter didn't die.  The curse hadn't even hit its mark.  How very peculiar.  Simon followed the mass of his brethren circling the beautiful, vibrant circle encasing his Master and the son of his first love.

 

Speaking of his first love…

 

_Lily_

 

He felt stunned, his breath exiting in a rush, watching the misty image of the long-gone witch and her husband encircling the pair of wizards.  She was speaking to her son.  But Simon felt the weight of her gaze on his soul.  Even though there was no true way for such a thing to happen, Simon felt a soothing pressure in his mind.  As though the panic and depression he had lived a decade with had been momentarily washed away.  _We accepted your Vow, Simon.  Magic has not forsaken you.  Remember your promise._   He felt the presence say.  He'd never seen such a thing, not known it was possible even.  At once he felt both at peace and ready to crumble.  He blinked rapidly to force back tears that the sensation had brought forward.  Just as quickly as it came, the webbed sphere that had encircled the dueling wizards vanished.

 

And then there was chaos.

 

Turning his back on the vestige of the long-dead witch in favor of her son, Simon drew his wand.  With very careful aim, he targeted the boy with a stunner…just in time for one of his brethren--Crabbe, judging by the size--to run directly into the jet of light created by the spell.  Between the barrage of spells and the shrieking of his Master, it was not entirely difficult to be clumsy with one's spell work, after all.

 

Simon could barely stifle the sigh of relief with the two boys, and the cup disappeared at last.  For his own sake, he managed to hold it in, but it was a near thing.  He would likely be punished, alongside everyone else, for allowing the escape.  But it was a punishment he would gladly take.  The boy was safe.  For the time being anyway.

 

The Death Eaters stood haphazardly throughout the graveyard-turned-battlefield, panting with exertion.  Simon had attempted to keep himself in relatively decent physical condition, but it seemed as though many of his brethren had allowed themselves to grow comfortable with inaction.  Reluctantly, Simon approached the stunned Crabbe Senior and revived the man, offering a hand to help him to his feet.

 

As one, the assembled Death Eaters turned to face their seething Master and fell into the submissive kneel at the wizard's feet.  Each of the gathered Death Eaters knew that there would be no escaping the coming pain.  Not one expected to leave this graveyard without punishment.

 

They were all wise, it seemed, in their expectations.

 

Simon Avery clung to the memory of the earlier presence in his mind as he lay on the muddy ground at his Master's feet.  Panting, attempting to breathe through the pain.

 

It was several days following his Master's return before Simon was permitted to return to his own home.  Alone, thankfully.  Linky met him in his rooms and banished the robe and mask ensemble to be thoroughly cleaned while Simon took advantage of both time and necessity to shower thoroughly.  As he scrubbed the stench of fear, pain and his own sick from his body, he allowed his mind to recall and categorize the experience and information obtained.

 

By the time he was cleaned as close to his standards as possible and redressed in clothing meant more for comfort than style, Simon apparated to his library only to find it already occupied.

 

"Severus," Simon nodded by way of greeting.  Without a word in response, the Potions Master handed over a sealed vial with a nod.  It wasn't hard for Simon to recognize a healing draught and he nodded in thanks before downing the contents and sighing in muted relief when it eased the worst of the pain.  "What happened? From your end, I mean?"

 

"The Dark Lord already told you of his cleverness in hiding Crouch as Moody for the term," Severus sighed, leaning back heavily in his chair.  "Minister Fudge is already going above and beyond in his denial.  Dumbledore and Potter are officially the targets of a smear campaign.  I don't know if it's orchestration from the Dark Lord or if he's simply that lucky but, for now, the public is unlikely to be of any help either way.  Dumbledore is reestablishing his Order.  But they'll essentially be working blindly for the foreseeable future."

 

"What are your orders for the summer?"  Simon asked curiously.

 

"The Dark Lord wishes me to keep ahead of the intelligence within the Order," Severus sneered.  "My role as a spy has officially begun."

 

Simon winced in sympathy.  To be a double agent was dangerous at the best of times.  Being torn between two madmen was even more so.

 

"How's Potter?" he asked tentatively.

 

"Back with his relatives for the time," Severus confirmed.  "I suspect nightmares will become a reoccurring problem for the boy going forward."

 

Simon nodded in agreement.  "It looks like his boyhood has been officially ended, far too soon but we had anticipated it.  What about Hermione, is it safe to continue training her?"

 

"I am uncertain as to the Order's plans so far as the children are concerned.  I would suggest caution, however.  Being locked in his own trunk has given Moody all the necessary validation to be ever the more paranoid."

 

"I'll write her today," Simon decided.  "If possible, it would be smart to get a handful of in-person training sessions in before they lock her away."

 

"She's likely to feel the need to know the events of the past several weeks from our end," Severus pointed out.

 

"And I shall tell her.  No sense hiding the gory details of a war that she's fully invested herself in before any of this happened."

 

"Shall you inform her of your current and future involvement with Ms Selwyn?"

 

Simon sighed heavily, guiltily and ran a hand through his hair, "I probably ought to, but I find myself rather reluctant to expose her to that."

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon reaquaints himself with his Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, so this chapter has something in it that I've been working on since early on. It's an event that was always going to happen and that I've built the storyline to meet with this milestone. I'm excited to have reached it and it was interesting for me to write it. I will say, however, that starts toeing the line of dark. I hope this chapter meets and exceeds all expectations!
> 
> Love it or hate it please let me know! Reviews, constructive criticism, even prompts, challenges and suggestions are always welcome and adored!
> 
> Without further ado, here is Chapter 9!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ABD

 

When Simon arrived at Emmaline's home there was something undeniably strange about the witch.  A thought, a memory perhaps, tickled his mind but he pushed it back as she all but skipped towards him as he moved from the fireplace and rid himself of soot.  There was something about the way she was carrying herself, not to mention the mere fact that she had _skipped_ to greet him.  Something was not quite right, but he couldn't yet pinpoint why.

"You're here!" she said, excitedly, as she pulled him to sit with her on the nearest settee.  Emmaline quickly called for tea service and wasted little time properly preparing two cups.

Simon studied her as he accepted his own cup.  He could feel the vibration of her magic brushing against his own.  Her smile was infectious with its brightness.  Which left him utterly confused.  Emmaline was generally a rather composed and stoic woman.  There were very few occasions in his recent memories where she had permitted herself to show an abundance of emotion.  That was not to say that Emmaline Selwyn was not a passionate witch, however.  Simon knew better than just about anyone that the exact opposite was true.  She was an exceedingly passionate woman.  However, she was intelligent enough to hide it behind stoicism among those who might seek to use it against her.

He listened with one ear to her chatter, again something fairly unusual for the witch.  She generally had quite the knack for saying exactly what she wanted to say in relatively few words.  For whatever reason, the witch had forgone her usual manner of speaking and continued to prattle on about everything from the lovely little gown she had found while shopping to the wonderful scones that the elves had made her for breakfast that morning.

"And did you know, I happened to come across Narcissa Malfoy yesterday morning," Emmaline continued.  "While she didn't say as much, I could tell that she and Lucius are becoming quite cross with that uppity Mudblood of Potter's disrespect towards Draco.  This is why I keep telling you, Simon, there's got to an acknowledged hierarchy!  The little chit might be a witch but only just!  Why in the name of Merlin should Draco Malfoy have to tolerate such disrespect?  I share no more love for the Malfoy's than you do but their ancestry is as long and pure as our own.  That used to mean something!"

"You know as well as I that Magic would not have chosen the girl if she had nothing to offer in return," Simon replied noncommittedly.  He doubted Hermione Granger would ever be the sort of witch to cow to 'her place'.  "Perhaps the young Malfoy would do well to understand what it is Magic saw in her and learn from it."

"What could a _Malfoy_ ever have to learn from a common mublood," Emmaline frowned.  "What she has to offer to our world is to provide somewhat brilliant halfies like Severus at best and she ought to get used to the idea.  It's not as though she's able to actually amount to anything of note.  Though, if she continues to challenge the old families she'll likely not amount to even that."

"Research done into Potter's companions has shown that the girl's family are quite educated themselves.  For what she is, she is well bred," Simon pointed out.

The witch looked revolted.

" _Muggles_ ," she spat. "As diseased and infectious as the common _rat_.  An educated rat is still a rat.  You're a fool if you truly believe one could be _well bred_.  Mudbloods are simply magical _rats_."

"Muggles mind their own and we mind ours," Simon shrugged. "As long as their infestation doesn't expand to include my home then I see no reason to make them aware of my existence."

"They do have something to offer, I suppose," Emmaline stated coyly, a heat overcoming her expression that Simon hadn't witnessed since the Fall.  Once again he agreed with his previous thoughts, Emmaline was an exceedingly passionate woman and that expression that she now wore so freely was the very one she wore so often as the pair reveled in their Darkness infused bloodlust.  The sight made him weary.  Though, shamed as he was to admit, his body and mind reacted.  For better or for worse, this witch had an effect on him and the more time that he spent in her presence the less shameful those effects began to feel.

Simon shifted in his seat, something that brought a smirk to the lips of the witch beside him.  To distract her from the obvious, he pulled her into his side with an arm around her shoulders, "And what would that be?"

"Foreplay?"  Emmaline stated plainly with a knowing grin.  Simon was once again pulled into his memories of the blood fueled passions that they had shared so many years prior and swallowed solidly.  The witch laughed heartily at his expression, which he knew was teetering on the edge of heated despite his attempts to remain unaffected.

"Is that your final answer, witch?" he asked, lowly.  He was answered with a kiss.  Simon was inwardly pleased with how smoothly he was able to lift her by the waist and plant her in his lap mid-snog.  Before intensity could rise or hands could begin to wander, the witch pulled back, breaking the kiss.

"Hold that thought," she said, breaths coming in pants. "I have a surprise for you."

Curious and more than a little turned on, Simon helped her up from his lap and rose behind her with his hand resting at the small of her back.  Emmaline led the way though the long, rambling hallways and up a set of stairs.  The tug of curiosity only grew as she guided him to the farthest end of the eastern wing of the house only to come to a stop in front of a set of ornate double doors.

Simon watched closely as she grinned at him before turning to unseal the locked door, becoming more alert as he heard the obvious sound of muffled crying.  With great effort, he managed to keep his expression clear as he entered the room and studied his surroundings.  The room itself was beautiful.  High white walls and ceiling with gold trim and lush white carpet.  The wall opposite the door was overtaken by an enormous window looking out over the property with the bottom of the window ending in what looked to be a very comfortable window seat.  The room was tastefully, yet sparsely, furnished in similar style as the room itself.  White and gold made the room seem much larger and much brighter than it otherwise might have.

While the room was lovely in itself, what caught Simon's attention was the very large four poster bed settled along the far wall to his right.  From the rails that ran from the one post at the foot to the other from hung a figure.  A woman.  Her arms stretched out above her tied snuggly to the railing above her.  Only the balls of the woman's bare feet touched the rich carpet.  She must have been captured the evening before if the now rumpled, slinky red evening dress was any indication.  A quick study told Simon that she had been gagged and spelled blind but given the way her body tensed and her muffled crying grew slightly louder as they entered told him that her hearing had been left alone.

Simon kept his expression curious as he glanced towards Emmaline, eyebrow raised in question.  The witch grinned heatedly as she wrapped her arms around him from behind, carefully unbuttoning and removing his outer robes, deftly placing his wand in hand.  "It had a few too many last night after what looked to be a disastrous dinner party.  I thought we might allow her to join in on our fun."

"Foreplay," Simon repeated, remembering her use of the term earlier with forced casualness.

Her grin only widened as she approached the bound woman, digging her long fingers into bright blonde hair before whispering something into their captive's ear.  In a swift, abrupt motion Emmaline had a handful of shiny red material as she physically tore it from the woman's body, dropping it onto the floor without further thought leaving the muggle woman standing with only a pair of equally red knickers to protect her modesty.  Emmaline eyed him with a mischievous glint, leaning her head casually against the woman's raised arms while running a hand over her exposed abdomen in a tender, sensuous manner. 

"I think this room needs to be redecorated," Emmaline said casually as her hands continued to caress the body bound beside her.  "I've always quite liked the color red."

Simon slowly approached the two women, wand gripped loosely in his right hand, "And you'd like my help?"

Emmaline withdrew her hand from the woman's body and pulled her wand from her sleeve, "Of course, just like the old days, darling.  I think she'll help too, though not quite as eagerly."

"You'll help, won't you muggle," she asked, speaking the question softly in the blonde's ear.  She paid no attention to the muffled response as she set the tip of her wand against the woman's belly where she had previously been caressing.  Emmaline affectionately pushed the blonde hair out of the woman's face, tucking strands behind her ear with her free hand.  Simon saw Emmaline's expression change to one of disgust and loathing as she hissed " _Crucio_ " into the woman's ear.  He was surprised at how little horror and disgust he actually felt watching the unwitting muggle woman fall under the torture curse. 

The witch only held the curse for maybe a minute at most but Simon knew from experience that even a couple of seconds under that curse was anything but pleasant.  She fired a strong stinging hex at the woman as she moved away from her hostage, who was now panting and sobbing around her gag, and wrapped arms around Simon's waist, "What should we do with her, do you think?"

He knew he couldn't remove himself from the scene without causing considerable amount of trouble for himself.  He also knew that he could feel the Darkness singing in his blood and his magic.  There was a part of him that wanted to paint the bright, lush bedroom red with the blood of their beautiful victim.  That same part of him wanted to flex and expel the tension of Darkness that had been growing, bottled up inside of him since the Dark Lord's return.  Simon could feel the bloodlust singing in the magic of the witch wrapped around him and it was calling out loudly to his own.  His own breathing hitched and became quicker as his body responded to the stimulus.

Without releasing his hold around the witch at his side, Simon reached out, wand in hand casting a cutting hex as he went.  He watched with fascination as several small cuts, no longer than a couple centimeters a piece, opened up over the muggle woman's chest and torso.  Another hex saw the smooth skin of her thighs split in the same manner.  He felt Emmaline's breathing hitch to match his own as beads of red began to appear and slowly drip down the woman's body.  Emmaline flicked her own curse to deepen the cuts just enough allow the blood to flow more freely.

In some way, Simon knew that drawing first blood would be their true undoing.  It was always that way with the pair of them, and most Death Eaters in general truthfully.  One could remain relatively passive and unaffected by something as impersonal as the torture curse, despite the hatred required.  To draw blood from your intended victim, however, changed everything.  Even a muggle without magic of their own carried energy in their blood and to spill that blood, to release that energy to clash and mesh with their own was intoxicating once the Darkness took hold.  Simon believed that release of energy played a large part in why so many of his brethren took so much pleasure in the physical and sexual assaults of their victims.  While he made a clear, firm point at the age of sixteen that he was not and would not hold with nor participate in the violation of women, magic or muggle, he could not claim to be unaffected by other means of torture.

The poor muggle endured hours of pain before her body and her mind allowed her to break entirely and she fell limp in her bonds.  Most of which Simon watched from a disassociated point of perspective.  Not to say that he hadn't participated, his hands were as bloody as the bedroom and Emmaline's hands were during the woman's last hours.  Once their bloodlust had been satiated, their bodies demanded the same satisfaction.  Yes, Emmaline was decidedly a passionate witch.

When Simon finally found his way back to his own home, he stood under the spray of the shower with the water as hot as his body could possibly tolerate.  And he scrubbed.  Scrubbed until his skin was tender and it wasn't just the muggle woman's blood that was being washed down the drain.  It was shocking how quickly and easily one fell into old routines.  The scene from earlier that day and the current were nearly identical to the habits he'd formed before the Dark Lord had fallen so long ago.  He would like to place the blame on Emmaline but he knew that he couldn't, not entirely at least.

He thought of Hermione. He knew the girl, while bright and capable of objectivity, would feel a sense of betrayal in his actions.  Her parents were muggles.  That woman could have just as easily been the young witch's mother.  Simon attempted to force that thought and all thoughts of the Gryffindor witch from his mind with little success as he redressed and apparated to his study.

A grimace crossed his expression when Simon caught sight of Hermione's familiar, neat handwriting on a letter that must have arrived at some point after he had gone to see Emmaline.  His sense of self-loathing only rose.  At least during the previous war, Lily was already gone from him.  He had undeniably carried his guilt then too, but he hadn't had letters from her waiting for him when he returned home from torturing a muggle woman to her death.  Hermione weighed heavily on his conscious.  Had he acted at a revel or at the direct orders of the Dark Lord, perhaps his actions could be excused, if not forgiven.  However, neither of those instances were true.  Simon had helped to all but bleed the woman dry simply because a witch wanted him to.  Because some twisted side of him wanted to.  What sort of man did that make him?

Were it not for his place in the plan to bring down the Dark Lord, Simon might've found himself botching a mission intentionally.  Just to be free of his own lack of control.

"If you're done brooding…" a deep voice interrupted his mental self-flagellation.

With no self-control left to exert, Simon startled to his feet and spun towards the voice only to immediately drop his arm to his side and narrow his eyes at the smirking figure of Severus Snape.  "That, my friend, is a very good way to end up on the wrong end of a curse."

Severus arched his brow in the way that was uniquely his, "You say that as though you might have actually landed the curse."

Simon dropped back into his chair with a heavy sigh, grateful when Linky promptly delivered much needed whiskey to both men present before popping away once again.  "What brings you here, Severus?"

"I've come from reporting to the Order and the Dark Lord, I thought a respite from my knife's edge was due," the dark wizard shrugged casually.  "Your elf still has standing orders to permit me open access, it seems."

"Of course, Severus.  I've told you many of times that you're welcome here."

"So what've you done?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Simon said dismissively.

"So Ms Selwyn then?"

"Now I'm certain I don't know what you mean."

"You always were a rather shite liar when you're set into self-loathing," Severus snarked.

Simon couldn't argue the point as he took a sip, relishing the burn, before staring blankly at the crystal glass in his hand.  "Emmaline," he began, crisply, "wanted to redecorate a bedroom."

Only knowing the man for as long as he had allowed Simon to witness the flash of incredulity in the dark wizard's features before it was quickly squashed by the raised, questioning brow once more.  "You've worked your way into a _snit_ because the witch made you move furniture?"

Part of him truly wanted to laugh.  The ridiculousness of such a statement earned it, at very least.  Were that his actual problem, Simon very well might have permitted himself to laugh.  Instead, Severus received an eyeroll and a wry smile.  "If only it were that simple.  No, Emmaline found a new toy sometime last evening.  A petite little blonde _muggle_ toy with which she decided she required help to redecorate the room in which new toy was being kept."

Severus didn't move in body or expression as the information settled in his mind, "And I suppose it was your assistance she required?"

"Of course," Simon groaned.  "I knew something was off with her as soon as I arrived.  She was as excitable as pup.  Then cool as can be she tells me she's got a surprise for me!  And what did I do?  I followed along and sunk right back into the blood.  The poor woman was strong, I can tell you that much.  She withstood Emm and I for hours.  I can't not wonder who she was.  She was likely climbing some professional or social ladder or another."

"Do you need to withdraw?" Severus asked, simply.

"No, no, I'll manage well enough," Simon replied.  "I'd allowed myself to forget this part of it.  I could remember the feeling of being caught in the bloodlust.  I could remember the Darkness being relieved.  But somehow I'd forgotten how utterly filthy I feel after. And…"

"And?" Severus prompted when the explanation tapered.

"And after I returned here, away from her, I thought about Hermione…"

"Miss Granger? What about her?"

"Well, she's muggleborn therefore her _parents_ are muggles."

"You're not generally one to state the obvious, Simon, please do get to your point."

"Emmaline, and I suppose myself, aren't the only ones of our brethren who take pleasure in it, in harming and destroying the muggles," Simon sighed.  "Hermione, being as close as she is to Potter, is an unfortunately well-known muggleborn.  If Emmaline's gossip is remotely true then the little witch is becoming a target in her own right.  I guess I'm concerned that there may very well be an assignment in the near future to take care of her parents."

"I find myself agreeing.  Miss Granger has an unprotected weakness and being muggleborn it's not unreasonable to assume that they will see her as the weakest link to get to Potter.  While the Dark Lord remains hidden, I believe they will be safe, however, as soon as that changes there will be little time to act."

"We'll have to warn her to take precautions.  Have her brainstorm a couple of plans and then review them with her to find which would be the strongest to go with.  Allow her some control of her parent's fate," Simon said, thoughtfully.

"That would work," Severus agreed.  "It would be best received coming from you, if you are capable of pulling yourself out of your self-pity long enough to do so."

Simon narrowed his eyes at his friend but, in truth, he knew that he would never survive this charade that they were pulling if he fell into wallowing every time he did something distasteful.  Instead of replying, he simply raised his glass to the other man before drinking the second half of the contents in one go.  The men fell into a companionable silence.  Severus returned to whatever book had grabbed his attention while Simon turned his attention to the small pile of mail stacked neatly in the center of his desk.

Placing Hermione's letter aside for the moment, he opened the next in the pile which happened to be from the Avery account manager from Gringotts.  The latest reports regarding his investments had arrived. Upon taking over the Avery accounts, Simon had gone through every investment, every contract and every obligation as thoroughly as he was capable. In doing so, he rid the account of many faulty and failing investments and funded a couple research grants and invested in a new company that geared at agricultural advancement, even wizards needed to eat, after all.  Thinking it over, Simon recalled that one of the founders of the company was a muggleborn wizard.  He quickly drafted a note to have the goblins advance a significant amount to the company.  With any luck the young business owner would take it upon himself to move to his business to the continent for a couple years.  The rest of the documents were put aside for the moment, there would be plenty of time to review financial statements.

With more than a little hesitation, he lifted Hermione's letter and opened it carefully.

_Simon,_

_It's been a relatively quiet summer so far considering everything that just happened.  I understand if you're busy and can't but I would like to meet with you at least once before I go with the others.  I'm told to expect to be picked up on the 25th of July.  Until then, it's a typical summer for me with my parents working quite a bit so I'm able to be free when you're able.  This is a short one, I'm sorry.  My mind is a little bit chaotic after everything that happened last term._

_Hermione_

Simon frowned in concern at the brevity of the letter before pulling a clean sheet of parchment of his own.

_Hermione,_

_I'm sure we both have much to talk about.  I do apologize for my part in worrying you as I know my correspondence has been lacking considerably as of late.  Thursday at the café should be a good idea, say midday?  While your training is important, you and your wellbeing are much more so and I believe a more casual meeting and conversation very well might be in order.  For both of us.  I'll admit, it would do this soul wonders to step out of the dark for a few hours.  If another time would work better, we can adjust as we need._

_Yours,_

_Simon_

He quickly sent the short missive to the little witch and sat back into his chair thoughtfully.  Knowing that Severus could see himself out as he so desired, Simon felt no need to stand on proper host duties and left the study.  His recent experiences left him with a sudden craving for those wonderful chocolate scones.  Perhaps if the surly wizard was still there when he returned from the market, Severus might enjoy the confection as well.

Perhaps a short walk outside of the darkening world would help to clear his mind.  It was worth a shot.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know some folks were awfully disappointed in Simon from last chapter. Don't hate me! It was something that I had in mind as soon as this muse decided to grow outside of the original double shot. I hope you all still enjoyed it!
> 
> This chapter goes into some explanations about some tensions that I've only touched on up until this point. I'm actually impressed with how seamlessly this chapter came together! I hope this means that my muse has decided to start playing nicely again!
> 
> In case anyone was wondering, I've fancast James Franco as Darian Mulciber. If you're not on The Death Eater Express on Facebook you might've missed my other fancasts as well. I have Bradley Cooper (Simon), Adrien Brody (Severus), Emma Watson (Hermione), and Katie McGrath (Emmaline). Hope that helps with your reading  
> 
> Finally, if you've been following my stories for any length of time, you might be pleased to know that I've (finally!) set myself up on Tumblr @SignedABD . Follow me if you wish! I look forward to interacting with you there!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy your second chapter of the weekend! Love it or hate it? Let me know!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ABD

 

The Malfoy residence was a massive, sprawling monstrosity of a house.  The exterior of the imposing, three-story building was flawlessly crisp white stone surrounded by several dozen acres of greenery dotted with topiaries, hedges, generations of Lady's gardens and inlaid stone paths so the family and their guests could traverse the property leisurely without dirtying their shoes or attire. 

Before even entering the vast property, however, guests not flooing must cross through an intimidating set of beautifully crafted wrought iron gates that served dual purposes.  First, the gate and surrounding fence provided the necessary anchors for the ancient wards that protected the Estate, and the family residing within, from everything from the curious muggle to malicious post and even direct assault.  Secondly, the gates provided the Estate with a certain foreboding aesthetic.  If a lesser witch or wizard approached the gates uninvited, the intimidating sight of the looming gates ahead of the imposing property beyond might give the unwelcome a second thought to their objectives.  Most Old Family estates had similar methodology.  Simon could attest that his own had similar, albeit quite different, protections that had been in place for centuries. 

Simon remembered attending many balls and dinner parties at various estates as a boy.  Thinking about them as a grown wizard always brought forth a sense of nostalgia at the many scoldings he received following his impertinent questions during such events.  His curious mind always seemed to have gotten the best of him as a child.  Though he knew that it wasn't something he'd ever truly grown out of.

He remembered one such event, he had to have been around nine years old that summer.  Lucius had successfully completed his OWLS and would be starting his sixth year the following September.  As with nearly all of the Old Families, Midsummer was an important celebration in which every available member of the Families was expected to attend.  That particular year was the Malfoy's turn to play host to the event.  Simon was well aware that his parents, and his sisters as well, would have much preferred to have left him at home with the elves for what was undoubtedly to be a very proper and opulent affair but that wasn't to be done on the Sacred Days.  Even families that didn't much like one another, tolerated each other for those.

During the festivities, Simon's attention had been drawn to a very tall, charming man to which many, including Abraxas Malfoy and his own father seemed to be pandering.  Everything the man said was met with wholehearted agreement and beloved acceptance.  It was as though the men had been taken under this strange man's thrall.  Was he, perhaps, a vampire?  He hadn't looked like any vampire Simon had ever read about.  He always remembered his father's mortification and the strange man's curious expression when nine year old Simon found the nerve to satiate his curiosity and voice that very question.  No, he had said.  He'd said that he was simply another wizard, Tom Riddle, who hoped to one day put their world back on the proper path.

Simon remembered feeling slightly disappointed.  He'd never met a vampire before and he had that would have changed that night.  Disappointed, he sat back into his seat and listened to the conversations around him.  He was disappointed again to learn that much of the conversations seem to circulate around politics.  He watched his father become drawn into this Tom Riddle's pretty words about the hope for the future.  Simon thought the man to be silly.  Everything he was so avidly defending rather fell against what Simon knew about Magic.  He remembered staring at his hands listening to the man passionately speak about how New Magicals were dirtying the Old Ways and that the Old Ways would all but disappear if they didn't find a way to curb it.  Even at his age, he was unsurprised to hear many like Abraxas Malfoy agree.  He was quite surprised to hear his own father agree, however.

How could he have known at the age of nine that less than ten years later he would find himself in forced servitude to that very same man?

Nearly two decades later, Simon found himself standing outside the ornate gates of Malfoy Manor, shaking off the memories that the estate tended to draw forward.  The opulence and splendor of the Malfoy home was likely why the Dark Lord had chosen to _bless_ the family with this residency.  Simon found himself quite grateful that the Malfoy superiority had ensured that Dark Lord had chosen theirs rather than elsewhere, like his own. 

Once again, Simon found himself approaching the sprawling Manor, dressed in his best to attend festivities that he truly wished he could have been left out of.  Though rather than his parents and sisters as in his memory, he had a witch wrapped possessively around his left arm who was quite putout that they hadn't used the Floo Network as opposed to apparition and walking.  Simon had placated Emmaline by ensuring her that she looked entirely too lovely to risk ruining her hard work by using the Floo.  While she did look exceptionally lovely, Simon truthfully wanted the walk to clear his head before dealing with the inevitable politics.

As the pair approached the massive double doors to the home, a tiny elf let them in, accepted their traveling cloaks and directed them to the large ballroom that was hosting the festivities for the night.  It would be the first occasion in which all Death Eaters, sympathizers, and supporters would be in attendance to _mingle_ with one another.  Emmaline was thrilled with the opportunity.  Simon was considerably less so.  Though, he supposed, if ever there was a time and place to feel out for information, this would likely be it.

Narcissa Malfoy had truly outdone herself with planning the event, that much Simon could admit as he took in the elegantly decorated ballroom.  The white marble floors and high cream walls with gold inlaid trimming were offset beautifully with rich black and emerald green décor.  It was opulent without being neither understated nor overdone.  Simon eyed the rich black runner with silvery trim that led the way to the throne like chair in which the grotesque form that the Dark Lord had taken on upon his return was seated.  It reminded him almost of Hogwarts.  There were many long yet smaller tables that encircled the open ballroom floor where everyone had been given their assigned seating for the night.  On the far most side of the ballroom, however, there was one massive "Head Table" overseeing the event.  It was behind that table that the Dark Lord's throne had been set.

Despite the fact that he felt he could truly use a drink, Simon was very aware of the expected protocol.  Without stopping to mingle with any of the other attendee's, hosts included, Simon and Emmaline made their way to the opposite end to pay their respects.

Witch and wizard dropped to their kneel in front of their Lord's table, Emmaline still attached to his arm, eyes on the runner they knelt upon.

"You may rise," the Dark Lord bid, watching them speculatively as they followed the command smoothly.  "Simon Avery, I've been told that you spent my absence in avoidance of your brethren."

Simon bowed his head respectfully, "I cannot deny that, my Lord."

"Darian Mulciber tells me that you've spent your years in relative isolation," the wizard said, thinly veiled curiosity tinting the tone. "Research, he's said."

Simon was unsure why Darian had chosen to provide him an alibi but he certainly wasn't going to question the motives currently, "Yes, my Lord. Though not quite as expansive as the Black or Malfoy, the library at Avery Hall has many tombs that I knew could help with the long game.  A return to the Old Ways."

"Yet, you chose to exclude your brethren in your quest?"

"I had excluded no one," Simon said.  "I did not, however, go out of my way to include them."

The Dark Lord studied him in silence for a moment before turning his attention to the witch at his side.  "Ms Selwyn, I trust Avery's lack of inclusion has not lessened your ability to work as a pair?"

"No, my Lord," Emmaline said, a demur smile rising to her lips. "Simon's exclusion hasn't extended _that_ far."

"Good," the Dark Lord said simply before dismissing them to enjoy the festivities.  The pair bowed formally and turned to pay their respects to the hosts, as was customary.  As they weaved through the throng of attendees, Emmaline squeezed his arm just enough to get his attention without drawing anyone elses.

"Research?  You've not told me about any research!" she hissed under the cover of an outward smile.

"You've never enquired into the isolation years," Simon said, idly.

"Yet Darian knows?  I hadn't thought the pair of you were so close?"

"Yes, Darian knows because his threats of continued presence was not abated by my attendance to the meetings.  He might have stumbled upon some of my research," Simon explained.  He would not be surprised if that was the actual truth, once he thought about it.  It was true that Darian's visits had not ceased, though Lucius's had thankfully.  Linky had been instructed to allow the man into the study only if Simon was not immediately accessible.  The wizard could have very well decided to snoop and stumbled upon some of Simon's musings from throughout the years.

Emmaline pouted prettily, "Does Lucius know, too?"

"Of course not," Simon replied, distastefully. "Why would I give the man more to claim as his own?"

"And if I were to ask you now, would you tell me?"

"Right now? No, I wouldn't," He answered solemnly

"What? Why not?"

Simon smiled, covering her had at his left elbow with his opposite hand, "Because, darling, that would be rude to our hosts."

Emmaline huffed and pinched his arm, "That's not what I meant, and you well know it."

"Perhaps later," he offered with a smile, following with, "if you can behave, Ms Selwyn."

She pinched his arm, unwilling to draw attention by doing more as they approached Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.  The witch disentangled herself to offer a warm greeting to the Lady of the Manor.  Immediately launching into compliments about how beautifully the witch's hard work had paid off.

While the witches were engaged, Simon offered a nod in greeting to the wizard opposite. "Quite an honor, I believe, to have the Dark Lord chose your home as his seat."

"Indeed it is," Lucius said, smugly. "It is, of course, our pleasure to welcome him."

"The Malfoy's have always been very well equipped to host such extravagance," Simon said in a roundabout compliment.  "I was reminded of your family's Midsummer celebration some years ago, actually."

"I believe I recall the one to which your referring," Lucius said.  "I'm fairly certain that my father demanded yours leave you out of any future events."

"I think my father would have preferred to do just that," Simon laughed. "Mother wouldn't have stood for it."

"It's a wizard's lot in life to keep his witch happy, I suppose," the blond wizard, his gaze following his own wife.

"And what a lovely burden to bear, is it not?" Simon grinned.

"Indeed," Lucius agreed as the witches rejoined their conversation.  "I hear you've been busier that we'd originally been left to believe, Avery?"

Simon rested his arm around Emmaline's waist casually, shrugging at the questioning, "I've dabbled in many subjects over the years, yes."

"Yet you let us all believe that you were wallowing in idleness."

"When have I ever been a man satisfied with simple idleness, Lucius?"

"Perhaps we ought to compare notes, then."

"Perhaps." Simon smiled passively, "For now, however, I owe this lovely witch a dance and we've kept you from your other guests for long enough."

As he gracefully led Emmaline around the floor, he could tell that she was studying him, looking for something.  Even still he was not adept at being able to read the witch by her expressions.  Rather than attempt, Simon tilted his head in curiosity, indicating that he was listening to whatever happened to be on her mind.

"Do you still have so little trust in me, Simon?" She finally asked, tentatively.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" He asked in surprise.  Though, admittedly, there was much he did not trust the witch with, his work with Hermione and Severus being the most serious.  However, he had endeavored to at least present the appearance of being as open as he dared with her.

"Your research, whatever it is," her mouth twisted downwards some and she sighed. "I know it's not fully my place yet to be in your full confidence but I had hoped that we have something and we've come quite a long way that I might be in there somewhere."

"You are, Emm," he assured her. "I've had little to do over the years but pour myself into the research.  I can assure you, there's no slight against you to be had.  I just hadn't thought to mention it."

Emmaline seemed distinctly unconvinced and wounded. "Little to do? You could have reached out to me.  What is this, Simon?  Are we to repeat the same song and dance that we did as children?  Am I truly aiming to attain the unattainable once again?" she hesitated, "Is…is there another?"

"Absolutely not, Emmaline," Simon assured, firmly.  His mind laughed at him as a picture of a young witch in a periwinkle gown danced through his mind.  Now that _was_ unattainable and he felt dirty even thinking of the girl in such a way.  Without breaking their stride as they danced, Simon carefully pulled the witch in his arms closer, his hand moving from her waist to the small of her back. "There's only ever been one witch I've involved myself with since before I left Hogwarts.  I know I left much unsaid when I secluded myself and I'm very well aware of the hurt I had caused.  I will do what I can to make that up to you the best that I am capable."

"I won't be tossed aside so easily again, Simon," the witch warned.

"If ever you suspect that is what I am attempting, you have my blessing to hex sense back into me," he offered.

"As though I required permission," she said with a smirk.  Simon found himself relieved with the wounded expression eased off of her pretty face.  Try as he might, there was no denying that he'd always held a certain fondness for the witch.  Even back in their school years, once the overwhelming awkwardness of her attentions had worn off, he'd held her in exasperated fondness.  Perhaps that was why it had been so easy for him to fall into her both times.

Once the music faded into another piece, the couple parted and made their way towards the tables where their seats had been assigned for the evening.  Simon settled Emmaline into her seat beside the Parkinson witch before excusing himself to fetch drinks.  Upon his approach to the well-tended bar, he found himself in the company of Walden McNair, easily his least favorite of his brethren second only to Pettigrew.  He always disliked the brute even before the events on the night of the Dark Lord's return.

"Avery," the man greeted.

"McNair," Simon returned with forced casualness.

"Heard from those sisters of yours since your old man's passing?"

"I've not, regrettably," he replied.  In the years following the Dark Lord's disappearance, Simon had spent some time reaching out to continental contacts in effort to reconnect with his sisters.  Unfortunately, the girl's had all but vanished and he'd had no luck whatsoever attempting to locate them.  He had hoped to speak with them, even via post, and make amends.  He was unsurprised that they had not attempted to reach out to him either, though.  Their father's actions had sent the girl's running.  That their little brother had also joined the ranks that had put them at risk likely ensured the girl's would not speak to him unless they knew without doubt that it was safe to do so.  They were likely married with families of their own by this point.  He didn't blame them in the least for attempting to keep their families safe.  Simon just wished for confirmation that they were well and safe.

Catherine and Charlotte Avery had actually been the original source of tension between Walden McNair and Simon Avery.  When his father's actions had put the girl's in danger Simon had taken it upon himself to ensure that, if he could not protect his sisters, he would do his all to ensure they were able to escape to safety successfully.  He had known even then that he could not be known to have helped them flee.  So Simon had secretly contacted a Ravenclaw halfblood witch that had attended Hogwarts just a year ahead of him and quietly made arrangements to have his sisters taken out of the country.  He refused to know anything further.  Not when they would be leaving, where they were going or how they were to get there.

When McNair had been commanded to gather the girls and bring them before the Dark Lord to punish his father it was discovered that the girls had disappeared with no indication of where they had gone.  It had always been known throughout the ranks that Simon had been a reluctant recruit which made him the seemingly obvious offender to the case of the missing girls.  Having failed to apprehend the Avery daughters, McNair had been instructed to learn their whereabouts from Simon by whatever means necessary to obtain the information.  Thankfully, Simon had no information to give and his sisters were, at least as far as he was aware, safe.

McNair had paid for his failures.  Simon and his father had paid for the girl's disappearance.  The difference between the men, however, was that Simon, and perhaps his father, would happy take as many rounds of the dreaded Cruciatus curse to ensure his sisters' safety.  Walden McNair, however, had taken his punishment personally and had endeavored many times over the years to attempt to draw information about the girls from Simon through various means.  Suffice to say, the older wizard was entirely unimpressed with the lack of information.  In turn, interactions between the two wizards had grown antagonistic even at the best of times.  It was precisely why Simon detested having the man at his back while standing in ranks for the Dark Lord. Simon suspected that the Dark Lord knew and found the feud amusing.

"Shame," McNair said, idly. "Were I in your spot, I'd hunt the bitches down and offer them up to the Dark Lord for your abandonment these past years."

Simon pointedly ignored the slight on his sisters, it'd not do to create a scene at such an event, " _I_ certainly haven't been the one catering to the Ministry.  I'd be careful who you accuse of abandonment, McNair."

The older wizard sneered before leering over Simon's shoulder, "Never knew what a witch like that saw in a spineless heap of a wizard.  You let her know where to look if she decides she's bored and wants to play with a true wizard."

"Ms Selwyn is not your concern nor would she appreciate the suggestive nature of your words. Nor do I, for that matter," Simon warned lowly.  "I suggest you keep your attentions to your tasking and away from things that do not concern you."

McNair smirked smugly, as though pleased to have gotten even a small reaction.  "Best be sure you keep her this time, then, haven't you?"

"I intend to," Simon said, dismissively, "now if you'll excuse me, I believe my witch is awaiting her drink."

Seamlessly gathering his brandy and a very full glass of a sweet smelling red for Emmaline, Simon shouldered past the other wizard and returned to the table.  Emmaline glanced to him in thanks as he set the wine glass on the table in front of her before taking his seat to her right.  The witch, sensing something was off by the way he was carrying himself, tilted her head in question without breaking the conversation with Madam Parkinson.

"McNair," he whispered as he settled into his seat, arm draping possessively over the back of her chair.  He took a deep breath and forced his jaw and shoulder to relax.  Once the routine was complete he allowed himself to examine the rest of the attendees.  Severus, he noticed, had apparently chased off some young witch likely with his vicious words.  The man looked miserably out of place.  When Severus met his gaze, Simon flicked his eyes after the witch and back before smirking in question.  Severus, predictably sneered before snagging his own drink off of the table and worked his way around before lowering into the seat to Simon's right.

"Narcissa will be quite cross with you messing with her well-crafted seating plan," Simon chided teasingly.

"Narcissa Malfoy knows that the only reason I've even attended this thing is because it's required," Severus shrugged uncaring. "I think she would prefer I at least attempt to _enjoy_ the thing."

"You enjoy my company, I'm flattered."

"Enjoy might be a strong descriptor," Severus responded. "I prefer 'tolerate'."

Simon laughed quietly, "I guess I'll accept that.  That might as well be glowing praise coming from Severus Snape."

Conversation was further interrupted when Darian dropped gracefully into the seat across the table from the other two wizards with a grin.  "Evening, Simon.  Snape."

"Enjoying yourself, Darian?" Simon inquired, politely.

"Yes, there's quite a variety here tonight.  They've outdone themselves, haven't they?"

"Well, if there's one thing the Malfoy's do well, opulence would be it," Simon agreed.

"I saw you having a nice chat with old Walden," Darian grinned. "Looked pleasant."

Simon rolled his eyes, grimacing. "Asking after Charlotte and Catherine, as is usual."

"I thought that's likely what he was in on," Darian paused and glanced hesitantly to Severus before continuing, "I don't suppose you heard anything from them over the years?"

"I've not," Simon admitted. "I had attempted to locate them a few times but however they've hidden themselves, they've done it well."

It was obvious that Darian was disappointed but rather than being angry like he was with McNair, Simon found himself amused.  He recalled his sisters constantly complaining to their mother about their brother's annoying little friend following them around during the boys' pre-Hogwarts years.  As they got older, Darian had announced many of times that somehow, someway, he would get Catherine to marry him.  It went without saying that the older girl was not convinced and even less impressed.  Simon found it amusing that the flame Darian held for the witch hadn't been snuffed.

"Well hopefully we can get through this unpleasantness sooner than later and they can come home," Darian said, wistfully.

"If that is their choice, they'll always be welcome, of course," Simon agreed, though he knew it was unlikely.

"Charlotte and Catherine?" Emmaline asked, tuning into the wizards' conversation following the departure of the other witch. "I've not seen them in years.  It would be lovely to catch up if ever they do return."

"It would be," Simon agreed, though as he caught sight of McNair across the room, he felt compelled to add on to that. "However, as Head of House, I think I would forbid them to return so long as McNair breathes."

Emmaline grimaced, eying the man in question with distaste, "As much as I would like to argue the point, I don't believe that I can.  The man is foul."

"I believe _that_ could be arranged," Severus drawled thoughtfully.

Emmaline's eyes widened and she reached across Simon to swat at the surly wizard's arm causing the man to scowl, "Hush!  You cannot say things like that here!"

"For once," Darian interrupted, "I find myself agreeing with Severus.  Ms Selwyn is correct, however, it's neither the time nor the place to discuss it."

Simon and Severus exchanged thoughtful glances.  Severus arched his brow in his unique way of nonverbal communication and Simon sighed but nodded.  "I suggest we reconvene this particular conversation.  Brunch tomorrow at mine?"

He watched as Emmaline flicked her gaze nervously from wizard to wizard before meeting his gaze and nodding determinedly.  As though waiting for her consensus, the other two wizards quickly offered their agreement to the impromptu assassination plan.

After a moment of tense silence between the four, Emmaline began peppering Darian with innocuous questions and the group relaxed into casual conversation.  Simon and Severus exchanged glances once again.  Yes, this would definitely be discussed further between the pair.

The rest of the evening was uneventful but enjoyable.  Despite turning himself into a recluse, Simon truly enjoyed the social interactions at times.  There was something that was bothering him, however, lingering just in the back of his mind.  He vowed to himself to sort it out by the night's end.

Eventually, the festivities died down and Simon escorted his witch to the Floo, opting not to apparate upon exit.  Once they reached her home, he deftly rid both of them of the lingering soot caused by Floo travel and allowed her to guide him to her rooms.  Once he had rid himself of his outer robes, he carefully began disentangling the pins that held her hair in its elegant updo as she removed her jewelry.

"Emmaline?" he questioned.  At her acknowledgement, he hesitated but pushed forward with his question. "McNair.  Has he touched you?"

The witch in front of him froze and he watched in the mirror as she lowered her gaze.  Simon felt himself become concerned when no answer followed.  He set the hairpins on the table in front of her before kneeling next to her stool and gently turning her bodily to face him.  His unease grew as the strong witch sat as still as a statue save for her eyes which were downcast and away.

His hand carefully cupped and raised her chin as he ducked his head enough to catch her gaze, "Talk to me, Emm, what happened?"

The witch swallowed heavily and slowly exhaled, "After the Fall…After everything Walden became quite persistent.  That I needed to learn what a _'real wizard'_ was capable of.  He's never particularly liked you, you know?  He seemed quite pleased with himself that you'd gone to ground.  I…well I was young and foolish.  I held out hope that would come to your senses sooner than later.  Even if you never had though, I'd have never accepted advances from McNair.  Even his attentions, they always left me feeling quite dirty.  You might have noticed that Walden McNair does not take failure or rejection well.  That…that extends to witches, apparently."

"What did he do to you?" he pressed gently.

"What do men like Walden do to witches that won't give him what he wants?" she asked sadly but rhetorically.

Simon closed his eyes and lowered his head, "I am so sorry that I failed you Emmaline."

He felt her fingers start to comb through his hair but he gently stilled them.  She ought not be comforting him.  That just wasn't right, given the circumstances.  He had been exceedingly selfish and left her unprotected.

"Hurt as I was, I knew you'd come back," she said, quietly.

Simon swallowed thickly.  The truth was, he _hadn't_ been certain he would return.  He had been so caught up in his own self-hatred that he'd have happily closed that chapter of his life, had that chance been given.  "I will do everything in my power, Emmaline, to make it all up to you.  Somehow, someway."

She smiled, shyly, "I know you will, Simon. You've always been tenacious when you've decided to do something."

"McNair will die," Simon said, seriously.  "If we could manage it, I swear I'll help you redecorate whatever room you so wish.  But the man will not be living by the end of the season."

Emmaline studied his face seriously for a moment as though judging his sincerity.  With another shy smile, she kissed him. 

Simon made a point that night, as he took her to bed, to treat her the way all women truly ought to be treated.  Much later, with the thoroughly exhausted witch sleeping soundly on his chest, his arm holding her snuggly to him, Simon thought over the day's events and revelations.  While it didn't change his opinion that the Dark Lord needed to be destroyed, it had shifted something in him.  For months, he'd treated his association with the witch as a necessary evil.  As a task he did only because he had to.  That, he acknowledged, was exceedingly unfair to her.

It was then that Simon decided to perhaps treat the relationship with the witch as genuine.  It wasn't as though he couldn't see himself truly building something with her.  He would have to tread carefully, of course.  What he and Severus were doing was not something he could or would involve her in nor would he stop.  He remembered back to the first time he had met Lily Evans.  He remembered wondering if the girl could be taught the traditions and be pulled away from the systemic ignorance.  Simon glanced down at the sleeping witch and found himself wondering the same.  Could tolerance and acceptance be taught if introduced properly?  Could ingrained dogma be retrained?  Would she even be willing?

As Simon felt himself fading, he thought to the poor muggle woman they had tortured previously.  Perhaps he could convince her to save that for revels and direct commands.  McNair, however, that man could be kept alive for months and paint the whole damned Manor red, if that's what she wished.  Even if not for the ordeal with Catherine and Charlotte, Walden McNair had touched what was not his to touch and Simon had no compunction against making sure the wizard knew that he'd messed up.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I foresee this story reaching 20 chapters easily but there could be more or less depending on the muse. We'll have to follow the lovely story as it writes itself by way of my fingertips I suppose!
> 
> This chapter is, again, Simon centric. I promise that Hermione will be back within the next few, the story just hasn't allowed for much of her just yet. She will though! Promise.
> 
> Additionally, if you've missed it, I've finally got myself sorted out on Tumblr @SignedABD . I truly hope to see you on that end as well. It's so much more friendly and interactive!
> 
> Anyway, I truly hope that you enjoy this bonus chapter! Love it or hate it, let me know!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ABD

 

The late fall of 1995 was interesting on multiple fronts.  The most glaring for Simon was the near constant communications from both Severus and Hermione regarding the Ministry interference at Hogwarts.  Most disturbingly, however, was that the communication from both sides was slowly coming to a halt.  It made him admittedly nervous to be cut out of communications.  To say he was eager for the Yule holidays was an understatement.  Once again he couldn't help but question what in the world was going on up at that school?

With the vagueness and loosely coded exchanges from the pair, it hadn't taken a genius to come to the conclusion that post was likely being read by someone prior to reaching the intended recipients.  Simon had since put aside time to research into this Dolores Umbridge.  What little digging he had done up to that point certainly proved that the woman was a piece of work.

In addition to that, Simon held true to his internal musing some months ago and begun to shift his mindset concerning his relationship with Emmaline.  He had not expected it to come to him as easily as it had.  Unfortunately, they had made little progress on the extermination of one Walden McNair, despite his promise to the witch.  The only thing that had been agreed upon by the three wizards and one witch is that the man could not be allowed to continue to live.  Beyond that, discussions had cycled through ideas while discarding the majority as too obvious.  None sought to put themselves in the direct line of the Dark Lord's ire if it could be avoided.  

Simon still believed the best scenario would be to allow McNair to bait him further about his sisters allowing him to request the right of an Honor Duel from the Dark Lord.  He would then be legally allowed to remove the wizard's existence without concern of retribution. Unfortunately, to attempt to request the claim for Emmaline's mistreatment would only put everyone involved in danger considering each had assisted in hiding the extent of his absence which had given McNair the opening needed to harm the witch.

He couldn't deny that it chafed that his comrades doubted he was an adept enough dueler to best McNair.

Hearing the click of heels on stone flooring, Simon glanced up from his research journal in time to watch the witch in question enter the study.  He leaned back comfortably in his chair as Emmaline rounded the desk and settled herself into his lap.

"Productive day, love?" He asked, warmly.  She had clearly been out and about that afternoon.  While the witch's casual day-to-day clothes were classy and elegant, Simon was equally appreciative of the witch's business wear.  Perhaps her more formal dress excited him because it indicated that she was a woman on a mission.  For all of his natural own tenacity, few things stood up against his witch's guile and determination when she chose to put her mind forward.

"Mm," she agreed, thoughtfully. "I've happened upon some information that _you_ might find of interest."

"Oh, have you?" Simon responded curiously.  "What sort of information might that be?"

Emmaline changed her expression to one of idle blandness and shrugged her shoulder nonchalantly. "That would depend on how badly you truly want to know, Mister Avery."

"I suppose _that_ would depend on what you would want in exchange, now wouldn't it?" He countered as the fingers of his left hand lightly traced patterns from mid-calf to mid-thigh and back over her bare leg beneath her long skirts.  "I've been told that I can be quite convincing."

She tilted her head thoughtfully before leveling an even stare that automatically made Simon feel more than a little uneasy, "I already know what _I_ want in return.  I suppose it's a matter of whether you're willing to hold to your word."

"And which of my words have I not held to?" Simon asked with a frown, his had stilling over her knee as he thought over their past conversations in search of whatever mistake he must have made.

"Your research," the witch said simply, determinedly.

"Ah," Simon acknowledged.  She had left the topic alone since their last conversation at the Malfoy's Ball over the summer but it would seem that time had passed. "What is it you wish to know about it?"

"As much as you'll tell me," Emmaline sighed.  "Were the information that I have procured not so significant, I'd almost be willing to let it go if you'd simply tell me _anything_ about it.  But you're stubborn when you choose to be so I'll tell you this, I have information regarding your sisters.  It's up to you how much that information is worth in trade."

Simon stared at the witch in his lap blankly as her words settled into place.  The witch was not above driving a hard bargain, his thoughts earlier about a woman on a mission was certainly proving true.  He hadn't counted on being the mission that she'd set her mind to, however.  He couldn't deny that he was curious about the information she claimed to have that, presumably, he had not been able to find or had overlooked during his own search.

"Well I've done much research into many of topics throughout the years," he admitted thoughtfully.  "Would it be agreeable that we begin with what I believe might interest you and work outwards?  I find myself curious to discuss some of it with you, to hear a different perspective."

"Yes, that would be agreeable," she nodded evenly, though Simon felt tension leaving her body from where his hands were placed at her knee and waist.  He wasn't sure how he had missed it but the witch had worked herself up so tightly just to ask him about his research.  Simon scolded himself mentally for somehow becoming so unapproachable that she felt she needed to go to such extents to ask him for something so simple.

"Emmaline," he said, quietly but firmly, moving his hand from her knee up to cup her face.  When the witch looked his direction he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, "Always ask your questions, witch.  You may not always like or agree with the answers I give but I will give you an answer.  If I cannot, at that particular time, give you a full answer, I will do my best to explain as much and why.  There is no reason to worry yourself so and I apologize for whatever I've done to make it that way."

"Now," he continued, shifting her slightly in his lap as he reached for his wand sitting on the desk before pausing.  "Where to begin…I suppose my first involved project is as good of place as any."  He carefully summoned the journals and ledger books associated with his analysis of the Avery family agricultural legacy.  "Now, I admit this is unlikely to be as fascinating as being dedicated to Charms, Potions, or what have you but I can guarantee that the Avery name is associated with every plate that is served at every single formal or informal dinner party you've attended in the past decade at least.  This research and the associated investments have been returned tenfold."

"Agricultural?" Emmaline questioned, carefully accepting the first of three thick volumes.  Opening the journal, Emmaline immediately noticed the date of some five hundred years prior.  "These journals, they're consecutive through the Heads of House?"

"They are," Simon confirmed. "I spent a lot of time with those journals before even beginning my own.  It was months of reading and corresponding with the Goblins to figure out which investments had died along with the associated Patriarch, which ones were active and whether or not they were still profitable or had gone stale.  What made this uniquely fascinating, is that agriculture benefits from advancements in all areas.  Different potion advancements for treating everything from the soil, the water, even the plants themselves. Charms for irrigation and protection of the plants.  It's unending.  With those advancements, however, if an investor isn't careful, he could stem his own profits by overlooking or neglecting to acknowledge such advancements."

"How did you learn all of this?  Herbology was hardly your strongest suit," Emmaline asked curiously.

"I'd wager it still isn't," he agreed. "However, I'm not aware and well-read enough in the subject to have a solid understanding to have an informed conversation.  Which is what I've taken to doing.  Rather than simply reading a proposed document and going with it, I often reach out to the researchers or the developers and have an in person consultation in which they can more thoroughly present their work.  It's proven to be quite fascinating."

"It sounds like it would be," she agreed, idly as she discarded the first volume and took up the most recent.  Simon fell silent, allowing the witch to consume his familiar handwriting.  Truthfully, he was a little surprised at how quickly she had accepted the first topic of his research.  Simon admittedly found it all fascinating but he was already considering which topics to breach once the witch grew bored of this one.

"What is this one?" She asked curiously, her finger indicating one of the shorthand names written to identify various benefactors of his investments.

"That is a pair of wizards who originally dedicated their research to the agricultural advancement across the board, both crop yield and livestock," Simon explained. "One half of the pair utilizes his strength on running arthrimic equations on what could or should be adjusted and what variables would be helped or hindered by each adjustments.  His calculations should be considered artwork, truth be told.  The other wizard has a knack with both plants and animals.  I funded their greenhouses for experimentations in their early years.  The pair working together have come up with numerous advancements and patents.  These gentlemen are largely why we can have access to many fruits and vegetables outside of their natural growing seasons."

Simon somewhat nervously watched as she accepted the information as she read through his research into the pair, up to and including his multiple meetings with them, prior to his decision to invest.

Emmaline shot him a confused expression, tilting her head curiously, "I've never heard these names before?"

"You wouldn't," he nodded. "They're both muggleborn."

Despite the distaste that he could see clearly dancing across the witch's expression, she continued to read pausing only to ask, "Why choose to sponsor their research? Surely there's plenty of idealists below the Sacred 28 or halfbloods even, that could have used your patronage just as well?"

"I suppose I have a soft spot for the underdogs," Simon shrugged.  "When I first read through their proposal, I very nearly turned it down.  Their ideas seemed entirely too farfetched and extravagant.  How could these two upstarts make the adaptations that they sought when dedicated Herbologists had been doing the same for generations with limited advancements in the field?  I believe I asked them directly just that question."

"They made a fascinating point, however, that we are a small but isolated society.  Potioneers focus on their trade, Charms and Transfiguration Masters focus on theirs and Herbologists, and so on.  With the exception of the rare few who are dual Masters or have close associates in other fields, we very infrequently intermix specialties.  Yet these two young wizards who were not Masters of any, but clearly had an inborn affinity for their selected foci's, had taken it upon themselves to attempt to do just that.  I'll admit that a large part of my investment was purely for the sake of curiosity. As it turns out, it was a smart decision in the end.  Masters of their trade or not, that investment has done more for my portfolio than any other singular investment has done in the past ten years."

"While they are my most profitable investment, they're far from being my only," Simon stated, carefully moving the stack of books and the ledger as Linky appeared with tea service. "You're welcome to any of this, however, and I'd be more than happy to discuss any suggestions or questions you might have."

"Simon, don't you find it a little…dangerous to be so invested in such a pair given the current climate?" Emmaline asked, thoughtfully.

"Aside from the two of them, the two of us and the Goblins there aren't many others who are aware of my involvement," he replied. "However, in more recent entries you'll come across a large, advanced investment to the pair to encourage them to expand their business ventures to the continent for the time being."

"Why would you do that for a pair of mudbloods?" she asked, truly sounding puzzled.

"Because it is the right thing to do, Emmaline," Simon said, simply.  "Besides, I find it beneficial to take care of those who take care of me.  If I had invested in them with not a knut more to my name, I'd already have earned back enough through their hard work to be set for life, albeit a simple life.  It would be cruel of me to throw them to the wolves and I don't take pride in being an intentionally cruel man."

"How are they obtaining their research though?  Can you be sure they're not just taking ideas off others?"

"These men are no Lucius Malfoy," Simon chuckled.  "How about this, love, the next time I am able to meet with them regarding their research, you ought to come with me.  See it for yourself."

"Really?" She asked, surprised by the offer.

"Of course," he nodded, sincerely. "I find myself quite pleased that you've found interest in my chosen course.  Of course I would want you to be a part of it."

"Do you have a meeting scheduled?"

"They usually fall every couple of months but if they've taken my warning in stride it might be some time before we reconvene," Simon said thoughtfully.  One glance at his disappointed witch had him pulling a quill and parchment complete with his Official Correspondence header and jotting a request for a meeting to the wizards in question.  Signing with little flourish, he sent the missive on its way.

While she shifted and found a comfortable spot in his lap to continue reading the journal, Simon pulled the official ledger book towards him and sank into revision.  Truth be told, by that point that the witch had come to him with information about his sisters had long escaped his mind.  Simple comforts like enjoying the presence of the witch even while they were both occupied with their own separate tasks was one he hoped he never truly got used to as commonplace.

@%@

The meeting had been accepted almost immediately and a short week later saw the couple seated across a narrow conference table in a room inside of a small but functional building that Simon once owned but now belonged entirely to the two wizards sitting opposite the pair.  Simon, himself, sat quietly through the proceedings, allowing Emmaline to take the lead and ask her questions.  Despite her ingrained bias, he could admit that the witch had kept her questions polite and formal without utilizing any of the questionable language he had feared that she would resort to.  There was no doubt that the woman had a keen mind and a surprisingly strong business sense.

The wizards in question were Peter Matheson and Adrien Phillips. Both were in their late twenties and had been sorted into Ravenclaw during their Hogwarts years.  Peter, who developed the constant stream of calculations, was the taller of the two and had never filled in his long, lanky frame giving him a rather stretched appearance.  The wizard had attempted to grow out his dark hair and goatee to help to soften the sharp edges of his appearance.  It hadn't helped.  Adrien was considerably shorter than Peter, though Simon was sure there weren't many who _weren't_ shorter than Peter, but was roughly the same height as Simon himself.  And much like Simon, Adrien was essentially average in build, as well. Where Peter looked stretched, Adrien was the sort of wizard that excelled in simply blending in to the crowd.  

Where Peter thrived in the calculations and research for them, Adrien had a mind for plant and creature.  Beasts, especially, seemed to love the man.  That alone made Adrien the cornerstone of the entire business as he was able to truly study their experiments and accurately report their findings from a unique perspective.  It was not only whether or not their ideas worked, but also how well.  He was somehow able to read if the temperament of the animal had changed, if the animal was feeling unwell following treatment, and even if Peter needed to take into account side effect such as long term reproductive issues.  When investigating animals intended to be livestock, such a thing was significant, after all.  He was much the same with plant life.  If a plant wilted just so, Adrien would likely find the likely causation before Peter completed the calculations.

Simon had the pleasure, throughout the years, to watch the men work on their various projects and he had to admit that it was impressive to watch their research culminate into a fruitful harvest at the end of the growing seasons.

"What happens when you run out of leads on your current research?" She asked the men, curiously.

Peter cut off anything that Adrien might have had to say with his excitement to answer, "That is the very beauty of research and development, ma'am!  There is no such thing as a perfect product.  After all, every growing season brings new challenges, whether it is weather and environmental or the local pests have become resistant to the previous deterrent methods.  It's a field that will truly never _be_ perfect."

He stood from his chair and approached the board, quickly scrawling out an impressively detailed equation, "Think of it this way, if you would.  A single hen only lays so many eggs throughout her life.  A smart witch or wizard would ensure that at least a handful of those are able to develop and hatch into more chickens.  However, there's always taking into account eggs that simply don't take or chicks that don't last long beyond hatching or never reach adulthood.  It is an inevitability of life.  And each of those hens that _do_ make it to adulthood, still only lay a set amount of eggs throughout her life.  But, is there a way to ensure that all of those eggs are laid true?  No, there's not.  Not yet.  But in our research we have narrowed down some of the environmental stimuli that _do_ effect that process both positively and negatively.  So what if there were a way to remove those negative stimuli?  Or better yet, raise hens that are _resistant_ to those stimuli?"

"We would have more healthy hens capable of laying eggs, and therefore chickens, that would also healthier," Emmaline finished thoughtfully.

"Exactly!" Peter said, excitedly.  "The same can be said for plants.  For example, there are some years where we get too much or too little rain during the growing cycle.  What can we do about this?  And what if we prepare the plants for _too much_ and we end up having too little, instead?  What can we do to ensure that they are resilient enough to withstand either?"

"Now I sympathize that this all may sound utterly boring," Adrien interjected, his level quietness in stark contrast to the other wizard's excitement. "However, I know _our_ grandparents, despite being muggles, remember the hungry times during the Great Wars and I've read enough to understand that much of the Wizarding World also felt the effects compounded by Grindelwald's reign on the continent at roughly the same time.  While we can all hope to not experience a repeat of those times, Peter and I have always been reluctant to lean into such idealism.  Instead, it is our long term aim to ensure that even _should_ the rest of the world, Magical or otherwise, descend into chaos, that Wizarding Britain is self-sufficient enough to not feel it as severely."

"That's certainly an honorable goal," Emmaline admitted.  "May I ask why you chose to conduct your research for the Wizarding Britain rather than it's muggle counterpart?  You'd have not been the first of New Magicals to take their knowledge back home to attempt to improve those lives."

"Not all New Magicals, as you say, come from that sort of supportive background, ma'am.  Myself and Adrien are included in that," Peter explained uncomfortably. "There are certain factions of muggles that view magic and witchcraft as evil and the practitioners of such to be evil as well.  Believe me, ma'am, our families would no sooner accept our help than…well, many of _your_ peers would directly.  No offense intended, of course.  That Mister Avery took a chance on us, fresh out of Hogwarts was a surprise in its own."

"Why do you continue to advance for those you feel would be unappreciative of your work?"

"Because we can make a difference," Adrien insisted. "If there's even one less person in our community who doesn't go without, simply because they can't, then that is success in my books.  If we can help our entire society, why would we not?"

Emmaline settled back into her seat and observed the two wizards silently.  After a moment of contemplation, she glanced to Simon who tilted his head in question. When she nodded, he offered a small smile in agreement.  "Simon has informed me that he's advanced a decent amount into your business as of late."

"He has," Peter said, wearily. "I had wondered why, though thought it quite rude to ask."

"You've been keeping up with the news?"  She asked, pointedly.

"Of course," the wizard, agreed. "The _Prophet_ seems to be of the belief that the Headmaster and the Potter boy are fanning nonexistent flames."

"They're not." Emmaline said simply. "I would encourage you both to see if you cannot establish a foothold on the continent for the foreseeable future.  I hear the Romanian government might find interest in your research."

The wizards looked stunned at the revelation and exchanged nervous glances.  "I hate to ask, Mister Avery…"

"Your funding will remain, and I will continue to be a quiet investor," Simon spoke up.  "I would recommend that, for the time being, the building be returned to the Avery estates until this passes, one way or the other.  It is, of course, your property and your decision.  However, for your safety, I would highly suggest that you follow Ms Selwyn's advice.  Things will get very dark, gentlemen, before they get better."

"Thank you both for the advice," Peter said, solemnly.  "Adrien and I shall discuss it.  Expect our owl within the next week, Mister Avery, regarding our decision."

"We ought to ensure that all correspondence from here out is directed through the Avery Account Manager at Gringotts, for all of our safety," Simon informed the man.

"Of course," Peter agreed. Both younger wizards rose to their feet respectfully as Emmaline and Simon rose.

"Thank you, gentlemen, for taking the time to meet with us," Emmaline said, formally. "I look forward to reading more about your work."

"It's been a pleasure ma'am," Adrien replied.

Simon smiled to himself, pleased that he'd made the correct decision to involve the witch in business matters.  With a hand on the small of her back, he led them out of the office and through the Floo back to Avery Hall.

"You were right," Emmaline sighed as she settled into her chair once they had reached the study.

"About what?" he asked.

"They're brilliant," she admitted. "What they're working to accomplish is incredible."

"And yet, unless you read the proper publications, no one knows about it," Simon sighed.

After a few moments of silence, Emmaline spoke hesitantly, "Do you believe they're correct?  That many of our peers might cause them trouble if they knew of their work?"

"A couple mudbloods toying with the food supply?" Simon said with an imitative sneer.  He shook away the foreign expression and shrugged. "Come now, Emm, you _know_ they would.  After all, love, even you'd have said something to the same effect prior to speaking with them."

Emmaline scowled in offence before sighing sadly, "I do suppose you're right. Are all mud- _muggleborns_ that frightfully intelligent?"

"It's like I've attempted to explain before, Emmaline, Magic chooses those of New Magic who have something to offer in return," Simon said gently. "Peter and Adrien offer their minds to advancement and innovation to help wizardkind.  That is why Magic found them and offered them their place in our world."

"You've always held that belief, haven't you?" She said thoughtfully.

"I have.  I do not believe Magic makes mistakes, unlike humans both magical and mundane, Magic is truly infallible.  If the muggleborn witch and wizard are magical then Magic has deemed them so."

"I find myself beginning to believe you," the witch admitted quietly, setting back into her chair, deep in thought.

@%@

_SA-_

_You can expect me for Yule.  There's much to discuss._

_-SS_

@%@

Simon had allowed Emmaline to take the lead with his elves to coordinate the decorating of Avery Hall for the upcoming Yuletide holidays.  It made both witch and elves happy.  Emmaline, he suspected, was pleased that he had begun to not only include her in his plans but had begun to encourage her to make those small but significant decisions in his home.  The elves, though, he knew they were pleased to see that he was finally allowing himself to do more than simply exist.  Decorating for Yule might be something menial but that year would be the first in over a decade that they Hall would host more than the ghost of himself.

He had to admit that the tasteful décor did add a feeling of warmth to the long-cold Avery Hall.

Wednesday, the 22nd of December, Simon had agreed to host a small Yule Dinner.  When initially approached with the idea some weeks prior, he had been admittedly hesitant to open his home for some large guest list of people he had no desire to play host to.  He and Emmaline had come to an agreement that it would be a very small, intimate gathering with just those that they mutually counted as friends.  Which, thankfully, pared down their guest list considerably.

The week preceding the event was…comfortable.  There were surprisingly few summons and Simon allowed himself to simply feel happy. 

"Simon?" Emmaline called curiously from her spot, perched on the corner of his desk in the study.

"Yes, love," he replied without looking up from his most recent reports from Gringotts, the last he would receive that year.

"You remember our conversation some time ago about the Granger girl?"

"I do?" he admitted slowly, curious as to the direction of the conversation.

"You had said that Magic had chosen her because she had something to offer Magic in return."

"Yes, I believe that to be true of all New Magicals."

"Is that," Emmaline paused, hesitating briefly before blurting out her question, "is that why you've been writing her?"

Simon looked up questioningly, eying the open letter sitting in the witch's lap wearily.


End file.
